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MARGARET E. SANGSTER 





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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



A LITTLE BOOK OF HOMESPUN VERSE 




MARGARET E. SANGSTER 



A LITTLE BOOK 

OF 

HOMESPUN VERSE 



BY 

MARGARET E. SANGSTER 

AUTHOR OF "from MY YOUTH UP," " WINSOME WOMANHOOD." 
"lyrics of LOVB," " EASTER BELLS." ETC. 



STURGIS & WAI.TON 

COMPANY 

1911 



L 4 

Copyright 1911 
By STURGIS & WALTON COMPANY 



Set up and electrotyped. Published, October, 1911 






Gi.A30i;4S9 






h 



THIS BOOK 

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 

TO 

SALOME G. HOWELL 

WITH WHOM I HAVE WALKED 

IN HAPPY COMRADESHIP 

SINCE THE DAYS OF THE MORNING-GLOW 



The consent of Messrs. Harper and Brothers, of the 
Christian Endeavor World, Sunday School Times, Mc- 
Clure's Magazine and Will Carleton's Everywhere to the 
publication in this volume of poems which originally 
appeared in another form has been asked and obtained, 
and the author wishes to extend her thanks for the cour- 
tesy. 



FOREWORD 

In a certain farmhouse up country between 
the hall and the living-room I remember to have 
seen home-made curtains of silk, the work of 
winter evenings in a house where the mistress 
had little summer leisure. Bits of silk sewn to- 
gether in a hit or miss fashion had been woven 
as they happened to come, into the curtains, 
and the result was fascinating to children of all 
ages from eight to eighty. Everybody who 
stepped within the hospitable doors of the pleas- 
ant home had a word of admiration for the 
silken curtains. 

Once upon a time when sojourning in Florida 
I found myself a guest at an inn remote from 
traveled paths. Entering the little parlor, 
heated by an old-fashioned base burner, I came 
upon a group of nine women. They were ab- 
sorbed in patch-work, and I was called upon to 
study the intricacies of coverlets also designed 

vii 



. Foreword 

on the hit or miss pattern, for the comfort and 
adornment of simple homes. 

We used, I fancy, to be satisfied with simpler 
things a while ago than it is our custom to be 
to-day. I am not counting upon the Gentle 
Reader's appreciation of my little book of verse, 
every bit homespun and purposely thrown to- 
gether without special classification, except as 
I myself have a preference for random bits that 
may be picked up at any moment and laid aside 
at discretion. 

The verses in this little book are meant for 
everyday folk who have an interest in everyday 
affairs. Love, honor, loyalty, faith and rever- 
ence belong to the staple of American life. In 
the days of my training we were proud to think 
of our country as inviting to its shores the dis- 
couraged, the needy, and, if you choose, the 
illiterate, from every quarter of the globe. We 
anticipated a day when the fusion and assimila- 
tion of cosmopolitan elements should make our 
country great and strong, and when the new 
nation on this side the Atlantic should stand in 
the van and lead the older nations on. This is 
still my gospel. I love the plain man, the plain 
woman; I love little children, and having never 

viii 



Foreword 

in my life been other than busy, I have tried 
from time to time to say something in verse 
for the heartening of those who toil. 

My little home book is sent out with messages 
of cheer and comfort, to American homes. North 
and South, East and West, beneath our flag of 
stars. The Gentle Reader who cares for Na- 
ture, for home and hearth, and for the simple 
life will find in this book a personal message. 




IS 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Just a Little Mother 3 

The Morning March 6 

The Road to Yesterday . 10 

The Magic Word 13 

Interrupted 14 

The Christ Child 16 

The Good Fight 18 

Be SiBoxG 90 

From Nazareth 21 

The Child in the Midst 23 

Barbara , 25 

Elizabeth 27 

Pussy Willow 28 

The Forerunner . . 30 

Other Mays 32 

The Coming of Spring 34 

Tiger Lilies ^ ...... 37 

Old Father Winter 39 

Memorial Day 41 

Christmas Gift 45 

" Seems Lak " 47 

Amy ......... .^ ..,.,. 49 

xi 



Contents 



PAGE 

The Mother's Hymn 51 

Straightway 53 

The Little Peayee 55 

The Guest at the Doob 57 

" Ashamed of the Working Mast ? " . . . . . 59 

Children's Games . 60 

The White Carnation 62 

The Easter Hymn 64 

The House of Obed Edom 66 

Her Wedding Ring . 69 

On Christmas Morn i. ... 71 

The Engineer 73 

Lucy 75 

Captain Abner's Opinion . 77 

Two Thanksgivings 

Miss Lucinda's 81 

Uncle Rube's 84 

Buying Christmas Presents 87 

Face to Face With Trouble ....... 91 

Abraham Lincoln 94 

" Let not Your Heart be Troubled " .... 96 

The Secret of Peace 99 

Why Do You Worry? 101 

Thanksgiving 103 

Silver or Copper? 105 

Ennui 108 

Whose Compassions Fail Not .109 

The Soul's Safeguard Ill 

One OF These Days 113 

xii 



Contents 

PAGE 

A Happy New Yeae (Darby to Joan) .... 115 

The Baby's Hand 117 

Show Me Thyself 118 

Jesus Himself Drew Neab 120 

Each by Name 122 

When Jesus Came to Bethlehem ..... 124 

Love's Guest ....... 126 

Our Country 128 

The White Rose-Bush 131 

Why? 134 

Our Soldier Boys . 135 

Between the Shears 137 

When Summer Ends 139 

Mary 140 

An Old-Fashioned Garden 142 

In the Shadow — A Requiem 143 

When South Winds Blow 145 

Brotherhood 147 

A Yellow Leaf 148 

Looms 149 

A Young Girl 150 

The Great Men Pass 152 

Pay Day 154 

Not Alone 155 

The Seat of the Scornful . 156 

War and Peace 157 

A Finished Page 158 

When Heaven Rains Flowers 160 

Ship Ahoy! 161 

xiii 



Contents 



PAGE 

Counsel 164 

White Lilacs 165 

A Rime of Poets Dead 167 

A Memory , 170 

OnTE Coat and Two Small Boys 171 

The Sting of It . 173 

Father 176 

Ember-Glow 177 

Little Things 178 

Thy Task 179 

A Caution 180 

Thankful 182 

Aftermath 183 

Robin in the Tree-Top 184 

priscilla 185 

A Cheery Word 187 

I Wish You Joy 189 

The Door-Step 190 

The Same Sweet Tale 191 

Absent 193 

Life ;. 195 

Be Brave . 197 

Hope 198 

Love l 199 

Journey's End . 201 



XIV 



A LITTLE BOOK OF HOMESPUN VERSE 



A LITTLE BOOK OF 
HOMESPUN VERSE 

JUST A LITTLE MOTHER 

She's just a little mother in a cabin far away, 
Since I kissed her in the gloaming 'tis forever 

and a day ; 
In my dreams I hear her calling o'er the weary, 

weary sea, 
Come ye back to Bally shannon, Katy dear, come 

back to me. 

She is standing in the doorway filling up the 

little space, 
There's a kerchief o'er her bosom, there are 

frills around her face. 
She is smiling as Our Lady smiles above the 

Holy Child, 
And my heart runs forth to meet her o'er the 

waste of waters wild. 
3 



Just a Little Mother 

Do you know our Ballyshannon where the wan- 
dering winds are sweet 

With the saltness of the sea-foam and the tang 
of smouldering peat? 

Do you know our mists that fold you in a 
blanket soft and grey? 

Do you know our Ballyshannon in the red rose 
dawn of day? 

Then you've seen the little mother, just Herself 

so small and old. 
With a look I think would warm you were you 

shivering in the cold. 
Oh, so patient and so tender 'mid the work that's 

never done, 
•Oh, so ready with her laughter from the rise to 

set of sun. 

In the great house where I'm serving folk are 

ever kind to me. 
But they do not know my yearning for the 

mother over sea; 
Wage I earn and wage I send her, but I cannot 

longer bide, 
I must seek my little mother, I must nestle at 

her side. 

4> 



Just a Little Mother 

She's just my little mother in the cabin far 

away, 
Since I kissed her in the gloaming 'tis forever 

and a day. 
In my dreams I hear her calling. " Mother, 

darling, yes, I'll come," 
I'll go back to Bally shannon to my mother and 

my home. 



6 



THE MORNING MARCH 

Morning after morning the tread of many feet, 

Like an army marching wakes the quiet street. 

With their sunny faces hghting up the way, 

The merry-hearted Httle folk begin their busy 
day. 

Though little do they dream it, they live their 
blithest time. 

And who shall sing their gladness, in the meas- 
ure of a rhyme — 

With naught of care to cloud them, with easy 
tasks to do. 

And teachers full of gentleness to guide the 
learners through 

The mazes of the labyrinth, till all the grades 
are past. 

And the coveted diploma is in the hand at last? 

Perhaps an honest lad who walks so sturdily 

along. 
May one day win the suffrages of many a 

mighty throng. 

6 



The Morning March 

The boy whose foot is planted now on learning's 

lowest round 
May scale the heights of science or its deepest 

ocean sound. 
The soldiers of the future, its splendid rank 

and file, 
Are hurrying forward here to-day where little 

children smile; 
Here, too, beneath the daintiness of dimpled 

flower-like face 
We catch the flitting sweetness of the mother's 

look of grace. 
Where yet Love's steady Hght shall burn above 

a cradle bed, 
And the tenderest heart be watching o'er a little 

golden head. 

Still day by day at nine o'clock I hear the army 

pass, 
Its footsteps ring along the stones, and bound 

along the grass. 
They seek the little district school upon the rural 

road, 
Whence yet may issue by and by men strong 

to bear the load 



The Morning March 

Of this great nation, and to lead its councils in 

debate ; 
The little district school that serves the altars 

of the State. 

The children of the foreign-bom, thej crowd the 

city school, 
Salute the flag, and day by day, are taught how 

freemen rule. 
From alien lands they come to us across the 

billowy seas ; 
The stuff for good Americans is in them, if you 

please. 
They, too, when moulded into shape, shall be 

our joy and pride. 
Receiving gift and guerdon here^ to other lands 

denied. 

Oft as the tocsin sounds its call, the lads and 
lasses haste. 

The schoolroom doors are open, and they have 
no time to waste. 

With look alert and earnest eyes, with expecta- 
tion high. 

There is no prettier sight to see, beneath the 
bending sky. 

8 



The Morning March 

God bless them as they go to school, God keep 
them every one, 

And guard them day by day until their child- 
hood's work is done ; 

Then make them ready for the strife, and let 
them take their place 

Among the brave and steadfast who shall yet 
redeem the race! 



THE ROAD TO YESTERDAY 

Who knows the road to yesterday, 

The road so garlanded with flowers, 
Who knows the place of careless play. 

The sunny track of childhood's hours? 
Oh, friend, I pray thee tell me where 

I left that path, and strayed to this, 
And lost the trail, and missed the turn. 

And changed for gray, the way of bliss ? 

The haunting airs of yesterday 

Are in my ear, like phantom tunes. 
The perfumes sweet of yesterday 

Waft here from its long vanished moons. 
Oh, yesterday, dear yesterday. 

Thy hoarded memories may awake 
When I have reached that pleasant shore 

Where living waters ever break. 

In that to-morrow of God's love, 

In that fair home where wait our lost, 
10 



The Road to Yesterday 

I'll find my yesterday again, 

The last deep wave forever crossed; 

There, every pain and fear behind. 
And only joy and peace before, 

The lovely yesterdays I'll find 
And keep, on the unfading shoreo 



11 



THE MAGIC WORD 

There was once a great Convention 

Where the waves of argument 
Rose and rolled in wrathful clamor, 

Broke on reefs of fierce dissent; 
Till at last with sullen faces 

Men upon each other turned, 
And the fires of scorn and hatred 

Lit bj passion, blazed and burned. 

Then stood up a white-haired German, 

Short of stature, rosy-red, 
Only frost of kindly winters 

On his venerable head. 
Looking o'er the vast assembly 

With a gaze of mild reproof. 
For an instant evil impulse 

Swayed, abashed and held aloof. 

"What this meeting needs, my brothers," 
Said the sage with eye benign, 
12 



The Magic Word 

And his steady aspect quelled men, 

As by potency divine, 
" Is a little word of magic 

Spelled, I think, with letters three. 
Nothing can be done without it: 

Listen, friends! 'Tis L-U-V." 

Rippled laughter o'er the benches, 

Men shook hands, the old man beamed; 
Surely Love was what was wanted. 

Love from heaven that flowed and streamed. 
Little matter how one spells it. 

With three letters or with four; 
'Tis the mighty power that binds us 

Close and firm, from shore to shore. 

Settling down to business, swiftly 

The Convention did its work : 
Smoothly passed from talk to action — 

Moved without a jar or jerk. 
Thus in many a household, friction 

Smoothly might we move along. 
If but Love would keep the tally. 

And our heart-beats time a song. 



IS 



INTERRUPTED 

Into the midst of the music, 

The joy and the fullness of life, 
There swept a strange clangor; then silence, 

A stillness more startling than strife. 
We heard not the sound of the trumpets, 

The bugles died out on the blast. 
Could we march in that desolate waiting 

For the thrill of a song that was past.? 

Could we work when our comrades no longer 

Breathed courage and hope in the ear.? 
Could we triumph when sorrow and sighing 

Had palsied our hearts, until fear 
Swept over our souls like the shadow 

Of some brooding evil to come? 
Alas ! we were stricken ! the music 

That had given us courage was dumb. 

Then down from the beautiful heaven 
A word came, the word of the Lord, 
U 



Interrupted 

And it struck on our languor and trouble, 

A dominant, silvery chord. 
" Stay not for the music," it bade us ; 

'' The music has only gone on. 
You wiU hear it again in the glory 

That waits when the day's work is done." 

So now, though but faintly and seldom 

We hear the sweet bugle call blow, 
We march in the path that our Leader 

Marked out in His conflict with woe. 
Some day we shall hear the grand chorals. 

Some day we shall stand on the shore 
Where the comrades already are waiting — 

The music has gone on before. 



16 



THE CHRIST-CHILD 

The Christ-child unto the stable came 

'Twixt the midnight and the mom, 
His mother laid him softly down 

By the beasts of hoof and horn. 
The friendly kine a-near him stood 

In the frost of the early day. 
And, little brother of all the poor, 

He slept on the fragrant hay. 

The Christ-child slept in the stable dim, 

And over him flamed the Star 
That was golden-bright with the light of heaven 

Where God and the angels are. 
Then, journeying far, came king and priest. 

With a wealth of spices sweet. 
And, little brother of all the rich. 

They knelt to kiss His feet. 

In a mother's arms, the Christ-child lay, 
When the winter storm was wild, 

16 



The Christ-Child 

And into her happy brooding face 

Her baby looked and smiled. 
Of David's line, yet peasant born, 

And Son of God most high ; 
The seraphs sang His praises 

And the Star lit all the sky. ' 

A gift of gifts that tender Child 

Brought hither for you and me ; 
From the leaven of greed, the clutch of hate, 

By Love to be ransomed free. 
And once a year, in the long, long year. 

For a whole and happy day, 
To share again the heart of the Child 

Wherever the children play. 

O little brother of every man I 

Obscure, or high, or great. 
Thine is the alchemy of heaven 

Wrought in our low estate. 
We find Thee stiU in the stable dim, 

But, for Thy cradle bed. 
Oh, rest not in the manger stall, 

Take Thou our hearts instead. 



IT 



THE GOOD FIGHT 

It is not mere resistance, 

Nor keeping watch and ward. 
Not doing sentry duty, 

Pacing a velvet sward. 
Nor safe behind the breastworks 

Is it holding the foe at bay. 
The fight with sin and Satan 

It is ours to wage to-day. 

We must often strive in the open ; 

We must kneel on the firing line ; 
We must follow the flag undaunted 

Where the enemy's colors shine ; 
In the utmost stress of peril. 

In the midst of pain and loss. 
We must fight to the death, if need be^ 

For the banner of the Cross. 

Brave souls have gone before us, 
The valiant and the true ; 
18 



The Good Fight 

In the field where the Captain led them 
They were strong to dare and do. 

Shame on the craven-hearted 
Who steal from the fight away, 

When the Lord of hosts is setting 
His battle in array. 

We meet the powers of evil; 

They darken earth and air ; 
But the shield of faith is ours, 

And the might that comes by prayer. 
For the Lord of angels leads us ; 

The Right shall smite the Wrong, 
And up the steeps of glory 

We shall carry the victor's song. 

It is not mere resistance, 

Though oft we can only stand. 
When well-nigh spent and fainting 

Are the weary heart and hand; 
But it's fighting in the open. 

It's bearing the battle's brunt. 
It's facing the foe undaunted. 

It's the wrestle at the front. 



19 



BE STRONG 

Whatever may happen, whatever may come, 

Whether things go right, whether things go 
wrong, 
There is one plain duty ; abroad, at home, 

It is told in the order, be brave, be strong. 
The fellow who falters and loses heart. 

The fellow who fears in the thick of the fight, 
And he who quails in the coward's part, 

Has never heard this order aright. 

Be strong to suffer, be strong to dare. 

Be strong to speak, let your words ring true ; 
Be strong the burdens of life to bear. 

Be strong to wait, and be strong to do. 
And whether around you be silence spread. 

And whether near you be shout and song. 
In the core of your soul let these words be said. 

In the combat of living be brave, be strong. 



20 



FROM NAZARETH 

Comes any good from Nazareth? 

The scornful challenge as of old 
Is flung on many a jeering breath, 

From cloistered cells and marts of gold. 

Comes any good from Nazareth? 

Behold, the mighty Nazarene, 
The Lord of hf e, the Lord of death, 

Through warring ages walks serene. 

One touch upon his garment's fringe 
Still heals the hurt of bitter years. 

Before him yet the demons cringe, 
He gives the wine of joy for tears. 

O city of the Carpenter, 

Upon the hill slope old and gray, 
The world amid its pain and stir 

Turns yearning eyes on Thee to-day. 



9,1 



From Nazareth 

For He who dwelt in Nazareth, 

And wrought with toil of hand and brain, 
Alone gives victory to faith 

Until the day He come again. 



m 



THE CHILD IN THE MIDST 

When the Lord of the great and the little, 

The potter whose hand shapes our clay, 
Sets a child in the midst of the market 

Where the world-peoples chaffer all day. 
Sets a child with its innocent questions, 

Its flower-face dimpled and fine, 
In the very heart's core of the clamor, 

A thought of the Maker Divine ; — 

And men, in their lust for dominion, 

Their madness for silver and gold. 
Crush the beauty and charm of that spirit, 

Make the flower- face withered and old, 
Bind the hands and the feet with a tether 

That childhood can never untie. 
Deem not that Jehovah unheeding 

Looks down from the heights of the sky. 

He sees, though we think Him unseeing. 
He knows when the factory wheels 

23 



The Child in the Midst 

Grind down to the life-blood of children ; 

When the poor little bond-servant kneels 
In the pang of its frightful abasement ; — 

Though all men are deaf to its prayer, 
There is coming a dark day of judgment, 

And the Lord of the child will be there. 

The child in the midst, as we've marred it, 

Bent-shouldered, dull-eyed, and a slave, 
That cringes at word and at fetter. 

That cries for the rest of the grave ; 
With our free flag unfolding above it. 

So free, from the pine to the palml 
And our scared pallid children beneath it I 

There's a jar in the hit of our psalm. 

From the mine where the midnight engulfs it. 

From the mill where the clogged air is thick 
With the dust of the weaving that chokes it; 

From the home where it's fevered and sick 
With man's toil, when God meant it for glad- 
ness. 

The child in the midst In our clay 
God-molded, man-marred calls to heaven 

For the vengeance we're daring this day. 



24 



BARBARA 

Our pretty maiden Barbara 

Came tripping down the street: 
It seemed as if a chime of bells 

Were in her little feet. 
So light her footfalls, and so gay 

Her smiles on old and young, 
A kindly word for Barbara 

There was on every tongue. 

This maid is Barbara the Third: 

And Barbara the First 
Sits dreaming in her easy chair, 

By tender kindred nursed. 
Her hair is whiter than the drifts 

Of newly-fallen snow: 
For Barbara for ninety years 

Has tarried here below. 

And age and youth, though far apart. 
In one sweet home are set, 
25 



Barbara 

And round them both are ministries, ,^ 

That wear an amulet. 
The charm of love encompasses 

Both Barbaras, to-day: 
The one with life before her set — 

The other worn and gray. 

When pretty maiden Barbara 

Shall reach her ninetieth year, 
May she look back on well-spent days, 

And on, without a fear! 
For Heaven, one day, shall conquer 

And youth shall guerdon age. 
What time life's kindest angel ends 

The laggard pilgrimage. 



S6 



ELIZABETH 

The little maid, Elizabeth, 

Held out her royal hand to me ; 
Though she is only three years old, 

A very princess royal she. 
One begs this lady for a kiss, 

One bows to her a vassal's knee. 
Since she is princess of the realm, 

Although her birthdays number three. 

Tall brothers do her bidding, fain 
To please the witching tiny elf ; 

Her father for her pleasure still 
Forgets the homage due himself, 

And ruler of our little world. 
Obedient to her Hghtest breath, 

By right divine of baby charm 
Is this small maid, Elizabeth. 



m 



PUSSY WILLOW 

Almost before the snow has gone 

While yet the clouds are chilly, 
Before the crocus blooms again 

Or spring awakes the lily ; 
A gentle herald meets our eyes. 

Her barque has crossed the billow. 
And here, with touch of glad surprise, 

We hail the pussy willow. 

A pleasant harbinger of love, 

She dares the bandit bluster 
Of winds that hurry here and there 

At March's furious muster. 
Full soon we'll hear the blue-bird's note. 

Full soon in sunny weather. 
Shall sweet, delicious perfumes float; 

We'll all be blithe together. 

The pussy willow leads the band, 
A merry throng come after, 
28 



Pussy Willow 

With song and wing and dear delight, 
With childhood's merry laughter. 

The earth that late was fast asleep 
Has turned upon her pillow. 

The joy of those who sow and reap 
Thrills in the pussy willow. 



29 



THE FORERUNNER 

When the first little flower peeps up from the 
ground, 

And opens its eyes to the face of the sky. 
Though never a bugle may cheerily sound, 

An army with banners is hastening nigh. 

Ere long shall the dear things we loved long 
ago, 
Make regal the fields that so lately were bare ; 
The lilies will gleam, and the roses will glow. 
And fragrance shall waft through the sun-fil- 
tered air. 

The first tiny flower is pledge of the rest. 
The daring forerunner of flowers to be. 

When the spring and the summer shall lavish 
their best, 
And beauty flood in like the waves of the sea. 



30 



The Forerunner 

Did it seem in the day when the winter was chill, 
And the land lay asleep 'neath its cover of 
white, 
That life had forgotten its glory and thrill. 
And shadow had fallen, and darkness and 
blight? 

Ah, heart that was faithless, be thankful to-day, 
Forever the promise of God standeth sure. 

Believe that the spring-time is coming this way, 
To fill up the measure of things that endure. 

When the first little flower peeps up from the 
ground. 

And opens its eyes to the face of the sky, 
Though never a bugle may cheerily sound. 

An army with banners is hastening nigh. 



31 



OTHER MAYS 

With shimmer of dancing waters. 

With rustle of rippling leaves, 
With seed in the furrow sleeping 

That shall later be bound in sheaves, 
Comes May in her 'broidered raiment, 

Comes May with her exquisite days ; 
Yet all that my heart can think of 

Is the glory of other Mays. 

Here are the tinted blossoms, 

Here is the song of the bird. 
And nest and wing and fluting 

By the same sweet impulse stirred. 
The notes of love and longing 

And the vesper song of praise — 
In my inmost heart they are waking 

An echo of other Mays. 

Lover and lass are straying 
Beneath the fragrant boughs ; 
S2 



Other Mays 

The south wind's tender swaying 
Keeps time to their murmured vows. 

So, some whose heads are whitened 
By the snow of the wintry days 

Went bhthely on, troth-phghted, 
In the light of other Mays 

Life brings us the changeful seasons. 

To each in his turn on earth: 
And now it is summer's fullness, 

And then it is winter's dearth. 
To youth the fond rejoicing 

And the flower-besprinkled ways, 
And never a thought of yearning 

For the grace of other Mays. 



m 



THE COMING OF SPRING 

Blue of the sky that's above us, green of the 

grass at our feet, 
Breezes that kiss us in passing, just to be Kving 

is sweet: 
When spring has come back to the meadows, 

and buds in the garden unfold, 
And the thrall of the winter is broken, gone as 

a tale that is told. 

Birds in the tree-tops are singing, birds are at 

home in the eaves. 
The thrill of the life that is waking stirs under 

the whispering leaves. 
Not a brook but is merry to madness, not a river 

but sings of the sea, 
And old hearts grow younger in May-time, and 

prisoners long to be free. 

Ah ! how we remember the May days, when first 
we looked up to the sky, 
34 



The Coming of Spring 

And watched our dream boats as they floated 

far over those spaces on high: 
Ah! how we remember the dear ones who heard 

in the morning of May, 
The call to a service beyond us, who slipped 

from our clasping awayl 

They answered the roll-call of heaven, ere earth 

to their eyes had grown dim; 
The Master had need of their presence in the 

place that was nearest to Him, 
And oft as the May-time returning is here with 

its music and light, 
We listen again to their voices far-borne from 

a crystalline height. 

The children are glad in the May-time, the baby 

laughs out in her glee; 
We weary of counting the blossoms as white as 

the foam of the sea. 
Wherever we turn there is beauty: wherever we 

look there is love: 
And green is the grass in the May-time, and 

blue is the heaven above. 



35 



The Coming of Spring 

Pilgrim whose faith has been halting, O heart 

overburdened with fears, 
God sendeth thee strength in thy weakness, a 

rainbow to shine through thy tears; 
Each May-time that comes is a token, a gift from 

the Father Divine, 
Who holds the round earth in His Keeping, who 

guards it in shadow and shine. 



36 



TIGER LILIES 

Children of sun and summer, 

Encamped by the highway side, 
There are never blooms more regal 

In their air of winsome pride. 
Color of flame and splendor, 

Charm of a wilding grace, 
I hail your torch-like beauty 

In many a lonely place. 

The spotless vestal virgins 

In the garden's stately aisle, 
Uplift a gleaming chalice 

And lure with a maiden's smile. 
Lilies all white and golden, 

No passion of earth they know. 
Yet I prize your deep-toned glory 

As I treasure their stainless snow. 

For the gypsy lad may pluck you, 
And the heart of the tired tramp 
37 



Tiger Lilies 

Beat once again as in childhood 

By the light of your kindling lamp. 

You are flower of the common people, 
My lily of road and dell, 

And the fragrant winds that kiss you 
Have the sound of a bridal bell. 

God cares for the common flowers 

That no man plants or tills. 
They laugh by the million, countless, 

On the everlasting hills. 
God keeps on high their tally, 

Children of sun and shower, 
And they waken each blithe summer 

Part of its heavenly dower. 



38 



OLD FATHER WINTER 

Old Father Winter is here again, 

Hale and hearty and full of glee; 
He is bringing the ancient blustering train 

That do his bidding on land and sea. 
Gales that roar from the frozen north, 

Sleet that cuts like the sting of a lash. 
Fleece that flies from the four winds forth. 

Storms that over the forest crash. 

Burly old winter with bells achimei 

With the skater's glide o'er the frozen lake. 
With glimmer of sun on the crystal rime, 

And draughts of tonic that all partake; 
We welcome you back for your lusty breath, 

For your face of health and your right good 
cheer, 
For the thought you give us of conquered death. 

When the sap stirs deep in the drowsy year! 

In the heart of the winter sleeps the spring: 
You cradle the buds in icy mail. 

39 



Old Father Winter 

Old Father of tempests, your wildest wing 
Hath shelter for nurslings sweet and frail ! 

You gather us close round the blazing hearth, 
And the evening glides to the tune of a song. 

And the home is safe, and the tidal mirth 

Flows rich and sweet where our households 
throng. 

Old Father Winter, you sometimes nod 

And violets wake on a sunny slope; 
Then the blue-bird fancies that spring's abroad. 

And the saucy sparrows are full of hope. 
But we love you best when your mood is brave 

With sharp cold weather and thrill of war, 
When the white foam breaks on the thunder- 
wave 

That dies at last on the steadfast shore. 



40 



MEMORIAL DAY 

Breath of the spicy roses, breath of the liHes 
sweet. 
And the gleam of steel, the flutter of flags, 
and the tramp of marching men ; 
Far and away the music that bugles and drums 
repeat, 
Till the curtain Hfts from the face of the 
past, and now is the same as then. 

I am standing straight in the shadow of the 
honeysuckle vine. 
With Harry, my bold-eyed laddie, clutching 
a fold of my gown. 
And Milly, my darling baby — oh, never were 
babes like mine — 
Asleep on my strong young shoulder, not 
heeding the stir of the town. 

The town is in strange commotion ; the men are 
marching away, 
41 



Memorial Day 

All but the old and the crippled. We cover 

our heart-sick pain 
With smiles that are like May blossoms, braving 

the desolate day. 
Kissing our hands to the soldiers. Shall we 

ever see them again? 

Husbands and sons and brothers, lovers and 
friends galore. 
And they carry the sweet light with them. 
They are gone ; there is nothing to do 
But to comfort the wondering children, to lock 
and bar the door. 
And then to pray for one's darling in the gray 
coat or the blue. 

Yes, we poured our tears at the parting, with 
nobody near to know. 
For women are brave at need, dear; they can 
bear the thrust of a sword. 
You would never dream they were wounded, so 
steadfast their clear eyes glow; 
And the only moan they make, dear, is made 
at the feet of the Lord. 



42 



Memorial Day 

Many a spring and summer have flashed their 
looms of light 
Over the narrow ridges where sleeping the sol- 
diers wait; 
And whether they fell in the morning, or passed 
away in the night, 
They shall He till the great Archangel sound- 
eth the trump of fate. 

The children do not remember — it was all be- 
fore their day — 
The passionate love, the passionate hate, the 
sorrow, the hope, the pride. 
We felt who were young and buoyant when our 
brave ones marched away: 
It is little to these young people which of them 
lived or died. 

But I carry my pot of liHes, and I bid them 
bloom for one 
Who was life of my hfe and soul of my soul, 
whom I gave for his country's sake. 
I bear myself with courage, as I will till my day 
is done; 
For a heart may sing its anthems, though a 
heart, alas ! may ache. 
43 



Memorial Day 

Breath of the spice of the roses, breath of the 
lilies sweet, 
And the flutter of flags and pennons, the sound 
of marching men, 
A pulsing of jubilant music, and the drum's in- 
sistent beat — 
Why, I've only to shut my eyes, dear, and 
now is the same as then. 

And ever dear Mother Nature, from the seed- 
time to the sheaf, 
Cares for the dead who are silent, and cares 
for the living, too; 
She weaves her decorations in the snow-fleece and 
the leaf. 
Nature the ever faithful, though the skies are 
gray or blue. 



44 



CHRISTMAS GIFT 

" Christmas gift, Missie? " I hear them yet. 

How the roses were blooming on Christmas 
Day, 
And the waves dashed up with the foam and fret, 

On the shingle, like waves on a summer's day. 
The dear black people who thronged me 'round, 

LiP pickaninny and Mammy Jean, 
And Uncle Jacob, with bow profound. 

And tall Aunt Hannah, as proud as a queen. 

" Christmas gift, Missie.? " with hands out- 
stretched 
And eager eyes, and their looks of love. 
And the presents forth from the great house 
fetched, 
While the sun laughed down through the 
cypress grove; 
Lil' pickaninny and Mammy Jean, 

And Missie, a child among them all. 
And Oh ! but the Christmas was glad, I ween. 
With its gift of love to one and all. 

45 



Christmas Gift 

Gone are the days, and the roses are dead. 

There's a trail of trade where the big house 
stood. 
The old sweet friendship for aye hath fled, 

Like Mammy Jean and her dusky brood. 
LiP pickaninny and nut-brown queen. 

You throng no longer your Missie's door, 
It would make her young if the holly green 

Could echo your " Christmas gift " once 
more. 



46 



" SEEMS LAK " 

" Seems lak," says Mammy Nell, 

" Some folks is lazy bawn : 
Dey nebber weed de gahden, 

An' dey nebber hoe de cawn. 
Yet ebbery puhson wait on dem — 

Dey eats wid golden spoon, 
Dey sleeps all houahs ob de day — 

When I gets up right soon. 

" 1 wonder ef byme bye, my chile. 

They will not hab their turn, 
An' wait on you an' wait on me. 

An' what dey eat dey'U earn? 
If heaven'U even things, my chile, 

Dese lazy folks up dere 
Will fine St. Peter settin' 'em 

To sweep de golden stair." 

So muses gentle Mammy Nell, 
Her black face shining bright ; 

47 



^' Seems Lah" 

For she expects in heaven to have 

A face all lily-white. 
" Seems lak " her faith may win reward 

Our dear old Mammy Nell — 
Whose simple life has been so hard, 

Whose tasks are done so well. 



48 



AMY 

Still do I see thee with thy sun-lit hair 

With eyes as blue as violets in the spring. 
In dreams thou comest to me blithe and fair. 

What time the summer leaves are whispering 
Faint undertones beneath the thrushes note, 

'Twas then that thou didst hear the angel's 
call 
That from a land not far did hither float, 

And very sweet and clear on thee did fall. 

Vacant the place where thou wert wont to be. 

The homely duties, how they miss thee yet I 
How strange the household, ever lacking thee, 

And who that loved thee could thy love for- 
get.? 
I think of thee, so vivid and so bright, 

I know thee living where beyond our ken 
His servants serve Him, standing]; in His sight, 

Or, faring forth for aid of toiling men. 



49 



Amy 

By some low bed of pain I see thee still 

Where childish face is haply fever-flushed, 
Harsh tempers yield before thy gentle will 

And angry tones are in thy presence hushed. 
Thou art not far away though years have fled 

Since last we saw thee, since we said good-by. 
No thought of mine can count thee with the 
dead ; 

So art thou living, and so art thou nigh. 



50 



THE MOTHER'S HYMN 

WRITTEN FOR TENTH ANNIVERSARY, NATIONAL 
CONGRESS OF MOTHERS. 

Of old they brought their babes to Thee, 

Our earthly ways who trod, 
And veiled in our humanity 

The mighty love of God. 
The mothers held their little ones 

So very close and near, 
Thy look was brighter than the suns. 

And yet they felt no fear. 

Thy blessing, gentle as the dew, 

Fell on each little Lead. 
And heaven itself came floating through 

The words the Master said. 
We, mothers of a younger day 

And of another time. 
Are fain to seek Thee in the way ; 

To Thee, our prayers would climb. 
51 



The Mother's Hymn 

We seek Thy blessing on our own 

Sweet lambkins of the fold ; 
We bring our children to the throne 

In aspiration bold. 
Receive us, Lord, as if indeed 

We touched Thy garment's hem. 
Accept our little ones, we plead, 

Be all in all to them. 

O Christ, Who walked beside the sea, 

To Whom the children clung, 
Let mothers' praise ascend to Thee 

In every land and tongue. 
And for this land divinely blest 

One blessing more we crave; 
Accept the offering of our best 

And all our children save. 



53 



STRAIGHTWAY 

" What madness this ? " cried the fisher folk 

By the Lake of GaHlee, 
When sudden and clear in their ears it broke, 

A young man's " Follow me ! " 
Straightway and swift as a homing bird 

Flies up to the waiting nest, 
They answered the call whose hearts were stirred 

By a vision of Love's own best. 

They left the nets they would need no more 

In the old familiar toil, 
They turned away from the friendly shore, 

As men enriched by spoil. 
For grave and sweet was their Leader's face. 

And His eyes were full of cheer ; 
They would march at His bidding with resolute 
pace. 

And challenge the menace of fear. 



53 



Straightway 

You who are young in the world to-day, 

Have you heard that ringing call? 
Are you ready to heed? Will you walk the way 

Of the Lord who needs us all? 
It is sounding down from the heights above; 

It is Christ's word, " Follow me ! " 
Ah, straightway answer the mighty Love, 

His servants and soldiers be. 



54! 



THE LITTLE PRAYER 

Among the prayers that all day long 

Made clamor at the throne 
Was one that lost itself in song, 

Meant for the Lord alone. 
Its sweetness reached Him clear and strong, 

As swift as sigh or moan. 

A heart with joy that overbrimmed 

Sent forth the little prayer. 
Its notes an angel might have hymned 

In heaven's serenest air. 
No tear its brightness had bedimmed; 

It bore no weight of care. 

" Dear Christ, I am so blithe," it said, 

" I am so glad and gay, 
I cannot walk with drooping head 

Upon the radiant way. 
But fain I am with Thee to tread 

Each hour and every day. 
55 



The Little Prayer 



(C 



And I would bring some joy to Thee, 
There sitting on Thy throne; 

Oh, let my very gladness be 
A service all Thine own." 

The little prayer went pleadingly 
In softest undertone. 

And Christ, Who listened, smiled to hear 

The tender little prayer 
That had no thought of grief or fear, 

Nor any weight of care. 
The little prayer drew very near 

His heart, and lingered there. 



56 



THE GUEST AT THE DOOR 

Thy home may be the lowKest 
On thronged or lonely way, 

Yet unto thee may come a guest 
Whom circling worlds obey. 

If thou but heed His gentle knock 

And swift unbar the door, 
The fragrance of the yielding lock 

Shall bless thee evermore. 

He steps across the threshold dim, 
He sits beside thy board; 

The light of stars comes in with Him, 
Thy guest is Christ the Lord. 

Henceforward every loaf of thine 

And every brimming cup. 
Shall be to thee a feast Divine. 

Since thou with Christ didst sup. 



67 



The Guest at the Door 

Thenceforward in thy heart shall be 

A sense of sin forgiven, 
The Christ Himself shall dwell with thee, 

And earth be sweet with heaven. 



58 



" ASHAMED OF THE WORKING MAN? " 

His hand is grimy and callous, 

His brow is bronzed with tan, 
But only the weak and foolish 

Are ashamed of the working man. 
What boots his toil-bent shoulder, 

That has bowed to a burden great? 
At need it is strong to carry 

The heaviest load of the state. 

Ashamed of the honest fellow 

Who kisses his bairnies at mom, 
And is off for a day of labor. 

That the idle flout with scorn? 
In the sight of the watching angels 

Who toil by night and day, 
The man who does his duty 

In a faithful, humble way. 
Takes rank with the loftiest rulers. 

And in the Creator's plan 
There are none more worth the crowning 

Than the simple working man. 
69 



CHILDREN'S GAMES 

Year by year the children play 
The games of children yesterday. 
The shouts we hear around the home 
Were once reverberant in Rome. 
And ancient Greece and Babylon 
Saw children's games and children's fun 
Like those that fill our sparkling air 
With effervescence everywhere. 

The tops they spin, the balls they toss, 
The marbles with their gain and loss. 
The skipping rope, the rolling hoop, 
In eager pace or flying loop. 
The kites that soar to touch the sky. 
The dolls in dimpled forms that lie. 
All these the generation through 
Have pleased the race since it was new. 

Still London Bridge is falling down 
In many a Yankee street and town ; 
60 



Children's Games 

Still kissing goes by favor, when 
The little maids and little men, 
With blush and bow and look demure. 
In childhood's morning, sweet and pure, 
Play, just as other children played 
Soon after this old world was made. 

And if they leam to play the game 
Right fairly, it is all the same, 
Though some be bom to golden spoon 
And some have scarcely wooden shoon. 
Time moves with swift and steady march. 
And underneath the sky's great arch 
The children of the moment play 
In every age, the selfsame way. 



61 



THE WHITE CARNATION 

Here's to the white carnation. 

Sturdy and spicy and sweet, 
Wafting a breath of perfume 

On the stony way of the street; 
Bringing a thought of gladness 

Wherever the breezes blow ; 
Here's to the white carnation. 

Pure as the virgin snow. 

This is the flower for Mother, 

Wear it on Mother's Day ; 
Flower for rain and sunshine. 

Winsome, gallant and gay; 
Wear it in Mother's honor 

Pinned to the coat's lapel; 
Wear it in belt and corsage, 

For her who has loved you well. 

The Mother in lowly cabin, 
The Mother in palace hall, 
62 



The White Carnation 

Is ever the best and dearest. 
The one we love best of all. 

In travail and pain she bore us, 
In laughter and love she nursed. 

And who that would shame the Mother 
Is of all mankind accursed. 

Tired and wan too often, 

Weary and weak at times. 
But always full of the courage 

That thrills when the future chimes: 
Mother with hands toil-hardened, 

Mother in pearls and lace, 
The light of heavenly beauty 

Shines in your tender face. 

So here's to the white carnation, 

Wear it on Mother's Day ; 
Flower that blooms for Mother, 

Winsome, gallant and gay. 
Flower of a perfect sweetness, 

Flower for hut and hall, 
Here's to the white carnation 

And to Mother — Our Best of All. 



63 



AN EASTER HYMN 

To Thee, dear Lord of death and Hfe, 
We hf t our j oyf ul song to-day. 

Victorious in the utmost strife, 

Thou art Thyself our strength and stay. 

We bless Thee for the comfort sweet 

That comes with every thought of Thee. 

Our praises cling around Thy feet 
Where yet the cruel nail-prints be. 

For us were borne the shame and loss, 
For us the scourge, the jeer, the thorn; 

For us the darkness of the cross, 
For us awakes the Easter mom. 

We stand beside the open tomb. 
The stone we dreaded, rolled away. 

Once more for us the lilies bloom 
Upon the Resurrection Day. 



64 



An Easter Hymn 

O Lord of life and Lord of death, 
We worship Thee this Easter Day. 

All love, all faith, all hope, all breath, 
We bring to praise Thy conquering way. 

With Mary we would hear Thy voice 
Amid the garden's cloistered calm; 

With her our hearts would fain rejoice, 
Thy love for every wound a balm, 

O King of kings, and Lord of lords. 
Who stooped to wear our mortal clay. 

Earth joins with heaven in the chords 
That hailed Thee Conqueror to-day. 

Though tears may fall like summer rain, 
Though sorrow linger for a night. 

Thy sweet compassion easeth pain. 

Beneath Thy smile the world is bright. 

To Thee, dear Lord of death and life. 
Thyself our strength. Thy love our stay. 

Victorious in the utmost strife. 

We hail Thee on this Easter Day. 



65 



THE HOUSE OF OBED EDOM 

The house of Obed Edom, 

Where safe the ark abode, 
What time were wars and fightings 

On every mountain road, 
What time was pitched the battle 

In every valley fair. 
The house of Obed Edom 

Had peace beyond compare. 

With famine on the border 

And fury in the camp, 
With the starving children huddled 

In the black tent's shivering damp. 
With the mothers crying sadly 

And every moan a prayer — 
In the house of Obed Edom 

Was neither want nor care. 

The fields of Obed Edom, 
No f oeman trod them down ; 
66 



The House of Ohed Edom 

The towers of Obed Edom 
Were like a f ortressed town ; 

And only grace and gladness 
Came speeding on the road 

To the house of Obed Edom, 
Wherein the ark abode. 



And far and near they told it, 

The men who passed that way. 
How fell Jehovah's blessing 

On that home by night and day ; 
How the smallest to the greatest 

Had joy and hope and love, 
While the roof of Obed Edom 

Was watched by God above. 

The line of Obed Edom 

Is on the earth to-day; 
In the house of Obed Edom 

Still he may safely stay, 
Who, dearer than all treasure 

For which men toil and plod. 
Shall prize the covenant-blessing, 

The hallowed ark of God. 



67 



The House of Obed Edom 

And never strife nor clamor 

Shall break the tranquil spell 
In which our Lord's beloved 

Forever safely dwell. 
In the house of Obed Edom, 

In the sunlight or the dark, 
Abides the ceaseless blessing 

That rests within the ark. 



68 



HER WEDDING RING 

Fold the weary toil-worn hands 

On the quiet breast. 
All the tasks are finished now, 

Let her sleep and rest. 
Never gem of price had she. 

Never costly lace, 
Pain and sorrow wrought their lines 

On her patient face. 

But her wasted finger wears, 

Loose the golden band 
That had been a queenly sign 

On her faithful hand. 
King to consort could no more 

Than this symbol give. 
In her slender wedding ring 

Did such magic live. 
That she walked in modest pride 

On her thorny road. 
And with courage undismayed 

Bore her heaviest load. 
69 



Her Wedding Ring 

Fold her weary hands to-day, 

Softly o'er her sing. 
She was leal and loyal aye — 

See her wedding ring! 
There are those in purple drest, 

And with jewels brave, 
Who less royally step down 

To the regal grave. 
Never stain hath touched the hand 

That through loss and dole 
Kept the wedded honor safe, 

Kept the home-love whole. 



TO 



ON CHRISTMAS MORN 

They fared across the lonely plains, 

They dared the desert way. 
Above them moved the starry trains 

That rest not, night nor day. 
One Star from out the splendor shone, 

A rift of heaven's own light, 
In fearless faith they followed on. 

Their eager faces bright. 

Three kings were they of great renown. 

And from the East afar, 
Until it stood o'er Bethlehem town. 

They journeyed by the Star. 
It stood above a cattle shed, 

And there its light grew dim. 
To heaven's own Child the Star had led; 

Its glory paled for Him. 

Immanuell A little Child 
That very day new-bom. 
71 



On Christmas Morn 

They knelt before the undefiled 
That earliest Christmas mom. 

Each head was bent to give him praise. 
Their incense, gold and myrrh 

They offered Him in glad amaze 
Each humble worshiper. 

What gifts have we for Christ to-day? 

We, too, have seen the Star. 
And we have found the happy way 

To Bethlehem afar. 
Our gold, our myrrh, our incense sweet, 

Shall we not hither bring? 
Ah, let us haste to kiss His feet, 

The little Christ, our King. 



7^ 



THE ENGINEER 

Hand on the throttle, eye on the track, 
Steady and ready, grizzled and black. 
Brief of speech, the swift hours through, 
With the sense to see and the nerve to do; 
By a touch controlling the tireless might 
That courses onward through day and night, 
Kin to danger but stranger to fear, 
This is the flyer's engineer. 

As lover to lady he bends his gaze 

On the fierce companion his finger sways ; 

Other men, they have other jobs. 

His is to note how her great heart throbs. 

He wouldn't one whit be more content 

If he bore the name of President. 

Kin to danger but stranger to fear, 

A health to the flyer's engineer. 

There's the wife ! and a smile creeps 'round his 
mouth, 

73 



The Engineer 

As if the wind blew straight from the south ; 
There, tucked at home in their cozy beds 
Are the babies. Bless their curly heads ! 
The wife and the bairns; in the back of his 

mind 
The watching angels those dear ones find. 
He never forgets them ; grizzled, black, 
Eyes like a flame on the forward track, 
For this is his train that must forge amain 
Across prairie and valley and mountain-chain; 
To-morrow for love and love's sweet breath, 
To-day, perchance, 'tis a dance with death. 
Kin to danger and stranger to fear. 
Here's a health to the flyer's engineer. 

If somewhere there happen a misplaced switch, 

If somewhere there happen a bridgeless ditch, 

An open draw, or a broken rail, 

A signal blurred, or a loosened nail — 

He'll stick by his train as best he can. 

Die if he must — just an average man. 

A hero, dismissed in a single line. 

But haloed and starred in the Book Divine. 

Kin to danger and stranger to fear. 

Known as the flyer's engineer. 



•74 



LUCY 

She was always little Lucy, always bent above a 
book; 

Something far away and thoughtful in her gen- 
tle, pensive look: 

Always with a magic secret bird and beast to woo 
and tame. 

Knowing every tree and flower, every bit of moss 
by name. 

Little Lucy when a maiden grave and eager, both 

in one. 
Faithful, fearless, self-forgetful, from the dawn 

till set of sun. 
Little Lucy to her lover when he sought her as 

his bride, 
Lucy, hght upon his pathway, ever thenceforth 

true and tried. 

She was always little Lucy, busy to the very 
end; 

75 



Ijucy 

O the days were blank without her, she who was 
so staunch a friend, 

When she slipped into the darkness, in the noon- 
tide of the year, 

Quick the shadows round us gathered, and we 
missed her far and near. 



76 



CAPTAIN ABNER'S OPINION 

Give me the Bible, Jennie, the good old Book 

for me; 
The one I've loved and leaned upon in storms on 

land and sea. 
It's been a pillow for my head in many a sleep- 
less night, 
It's been a heaven-guiding star to give me cheer 

and light. 
Don't bring that new revision, I'm not in need 

of change, 
The music is not quite the same if chord and 

key are strange. 
I like the dear old-fashioned words I learned at 

mother's knee. 
Bring me the Bible, Jennie, the good old Book 

for me. 

Our parson in the pulpit explains the meanings 
well; 

77 



Captain Ahner's Opinion 

To him the sHghtly altered phrase is like a silver 

bell. 
To me a change is out of tune ; it does not sound 

so sweet. 
You ken I'm watching daily for the Master's 

coming feet. 
I'm listening should He call me, I long His 

knock to hear; 
If for me He has a message, I want it plain and 

clear. 
I'm not a scholar, Jennie, I'm only what you see, 
And the Bible I have always had is the best of 

books for me. 



I sailed the ocean, Jennie, when I was but a lad ; 
Sea-faring men get close to God when tempests 

rave like mad. 
In the darkness of wild weather the sky was 

overcast, 
But I trod the deck in safety and came to port 

at last. 
When the Master was on earth, dear. He seemed 

to like the sea. 
And once He hushed a driving storm on the 

Lake of Galilee ; 

78 



Captain Ahner's Opinion 

When I was but a little chap I mind I used to 

look 
At a picture mother had of Him, 'twas in her 

dear old Book. 

At the wedding and the funeral, whene'er the 

heart is full. 
It craves the thing it understands, old memories 

tug and pull. 
To just an average man like me there comes a 

sense of loss, 
A feeling that a hand profane might touch the 

Crown and Cross ; 
That from the East the Star might fade, the 

Manger disappear, 
The Virgin Mother and the Child grow dimmer 

year by year, 
If one by one the miracles were all explained 

away 
In the scientific brightness of our glaring mod- 
ern day. 

What I'm afraid of, Jennie, is the tiny entering 

wedge ; 
The field is bare to every one if a gap be in the 

hedge. 

79 



Captain Ahner's Opinion 

I like my Bible as it is, a well of water sweet, 
Where thirsty souls may rest themselves, and 

drink, in sun and heat. 
The minister may need it, but we common folk 

can wait 
To find our new revision when we reach the 

pearly gate. 
I want it as it is, my dear, its pith and poetry ; 
Bring me my Bible, Jennie, the good old Book 

for me. 



80 



TWO THANKSGIVINGS 

MISS lucinda's. 

But why do I keep Thanksgiving? 

Did I hear you aright, my dear? 
Why? When I'm all alone in life, 

Not a chick or a child to be near, 
John's folks all away in the West, 

Lucy across the sea, 
And not a soul in the dear old home 

Save a little bound girl and me? 

It does look lonesome, I grant it; 

Yet strange as the thing may sound, 
I'm seldom in want of company 

The whole of the merry year round — 
There's spring when the lilac blossoms, 

And the orchards flush to bloom. 
There's summer when great moths flit and glance 

Through the twilight's star-lit gloom. 



81 



Two Thanksgivings 

Then comes the beautiful autumn, 

When every fragrant briar, 
Flinging its garlands on fence and wall, 

Is bright as a living fire; 
And then the white, still winter time, 

When the snow lies warm on the wheat. 
And I think of the days that have passed away, 

When my life was young and sweet. 

I'm a very happy woman 

To-day, though my hair is white. 
For some of my troubles I've overlived. 

And some I keep out of sight. 
I'm a busy old woman, you see, dear, 

As I travel along life's road, 
I'm always trying as best I can 

To lighten my neighbor's load. 

That child.'* You should think she'd try me.? 

Does she earn her bread and salt.f^ 
You've noticed she's sometimes indolent. 

And indolence is a fault .^^ 
Of course it is, but the orphan girl 

Is growing as fast as she can. 
And to make her work from dawn till dark 

Was never a part of my plan. 

82 



Two Thanksgivings 

I like to see the dimples 

Flash out on the little face 
That was wan enough, and still enough, 

When first she came to the place. 
I think she'll do, when she's older; 

A kitten is not a cat, 
And now that I look at the thing, my dear, 

I hope she'll never be that, 

I'm thankful that life is peaceful ; 

I should just be sick of strife, 
If, for instance, I had to live along 

Like poor Job Slocum's wife ; 
I'm thankful I didn't say " yes," my dear 

What saved me I do not see — 
When Job, with a sprig in his button hole, 

Once came a-courting me. 

I'm thankful I'm neither poor nor rich, 

Glad that I'm not in debt ; 
That I owe no money I cannot pay, 

And so have no call to fret. 
I'm thankful so many love me. 

And that I've so many to love, 
Though my dearest and nearest are all at home 

In the beautiful land above. 

83 



Ttoo Thanksgivings 

I shall always keep Thanksgiving 

In the good old-fashioned way. 
And think of the reasons for gratitude, 

In December, and June, and May. 
In August, November and April, 

And the months that come between ; 
For God is good, and my heart is light. 

And I'd not change place with a queen. 

UNCLE rube's. 

Of land I own no acre, nor wife or child have I, 
Up on the hillside yonder my dearest kindred lie. 
My youth I've left behind me, my years are 

growing few, 
But I can keep Thanksgiving with the happiest 

one of you. 

No man in this great world of God can hold the 

stars in fee, 
Or map for his advantage the wide and billowy 

sea. 
The sky, the fields, the open plain, the road I 

travel on 
Are mine to love, are mine for life, till sinks my 

latest sun. 

84 



Two Thanksgivings 

The children run to meet me, and clasp my wrin- 
kled hands, 

The babies prattle merrily, and Uncle under- 
stands. 

There's not a hearth-side in the town but has a 
place for me ; 

To many a heart both young and old, I have the 
comrade's key. 

The very dogs are friendly as I go about the 

town. 
The wild birds in the woodland at my call come 

flying down. 
I've never yet been lonesome though I've often 

been alone, 
For the little forest creatures are as children of 

my own. 

If the young folk want a frolic, I tune my fiddle 

strings. 
And up and down the bam they flit as if their 

feet were wings. 
If there's trouble in the village I can lend a hand 

to aid, 
And in fever spells and sickness I can nurse them 

undismayed. 

85 



Two Thanksgivings 

So, though I'm old and rather poor, I do not 

envy wealth. 
I'm tough and strong as some old tree, I know the 

joy of health. 
I try to live in thankfulness, I'm grateful all the 

way, 
I'm everybody's Uncle Rube when comes 

Thanksgiving day. 

Each table has a seat for me, each farmhouse 

counts me guest, 
The countryside is mine in love, not one than I 

more blest. 
I'll lift a song of praise to God, His happy 

child am I, 
Although I own no foot of land, beneath God's 

bending sky. 



86 



BUYING CHRISTMAS PRESENTS 

I've been buying Christmas presents, 

Roving from shop to shop ; 
I've a troop of friends to plan for, 

And I never know where to stop. 
I begin to save for December 

Before the first of May, 
And I'm bankrupt till the spring returns, 

After each Christmas day. 

I take my dearest dear ones 

First on my Christmas list — 
My rosy, dimpled darlings. 

With faces made to be kissed. 
And the lovely bright-eyed mother, 

Wherever she sets her chair. 
In the nursery or the parlor. 

The center of home is there. 

For her should be spoils of jewels. 
Velvet and lace in store, 
87 



Buying Christmas Presents 

Raiment to trail its splendors 

Over our homely floor. 
But her frown of grave discretion 

Still holds my zeal in check, 
And her gentle " Dear, be careful 1 " 

Is strong as a monarch's beck. 



And Tom, my sturdy first born, 

And my roguish, manly Fred, 
'Tis little to think of skates for one, 

And the other must have a sled. 
And my dainty baby Margaret, 

And my winsome maiden Ruth, 
I'll see that their Christmas stockings 

Are full to the brim, in sooth. 

Next come a host of cousins — 

We are rich in kith and kin. 
Their numbers muster bravely, 

With the babies counted in. 
Beyond these are the needy 

Our Christmas feast to share. 
And the worn and heavy hearted. 

Who are ever in our care. 



88 



Buying Christmas Presents 

In flock the joyous children, 

Laden with fir and pine, 
And the scarlet holly berries, 

Their stars and wreaths to twine. 
I sit and watch and listen, 

Till I almost fall asleep, 
And over my weary senses 

The drifting odors sweep. 

And somehow, this Christmas fading, 

I am back in the long ago, 
When I was a jolly youngster 

Trudging to school in the snow. 
The dear old farmhouse kitchen 

And the old brown district school 
Come back like an angel's vision. 

Though stem I thought their rule. 

I have lost the sweet old mother. 

And the father strict and kind. 
Whose word was law to the children — 

A law they loved to mind. 
They are not on the earth for loving; 

They have left the weary road, 
And they hear the Christmas music 

On the golden hills of God. 
89 



Buying Christmas Presents 

But I'm better for their teachings, 

And on to the very end 
I will try to walk as they did, 

With the Christ for my blessed Friend. 
I will try to teach the children 

That love is the best of creeds, 
And that he who cares for his neighbor 

His own cause ever pleads. 

Yes, dear, it is " Merry Christmas ! " 

And you really should not scold 
If a man forgets at Christmas 

That he is not made of gold. 
Why, I've saved for my Christmas presents 

Quite since the first of May, 
And I like to be bankrupt for a while 

After the Christmas day. 



90 



FACE TO FACE WITH TROUBLE 

You are face to face with trouble, 

And the skies are murk and gray ; 
You hardly know which way to turn, 

You are almost dazed, you say. 
And at night you wake to wonder 

What the next day's news will bring ; 
Your pillow is brushed by phantom care 

With a grim and ghastly wing. 

You are face to face with trouble; 

A child has gone astray ; 
A ship is wrecked on the bitter sea; 

There's a debt you cannot pay ; 
Your brave right hand is feeble; 

Your sight is growing blind ; 
Perhaps a friend is cold and stem 

Who was ever warm and kind. 

You are face to face with trouble; 
No wonder you cannot sleep; 
91 



Face to Face With Trouble 

But wait, and think of the promise, 

The Lord will safely keep, 
And lead you out of the thicket, 

And into the pasture-land; 
You have only to walk straight onward, 

Holding the dear Lord's hand. 

Face to face with trouble ; 

And did you forget to look. 
As a good old father taught you, 

For help, to the dear old Book? 
You have heard the tempter whisper, 

And you've had no heart to pray, 
And God was dropped from your scheme of life, 

O ! for many a weary day I 

Then face to face with trouble ; 

It is thus He calls you back 
From the land of dearth and famine 

To the land that has no lack. 
You would not hear in the sunshine ; 

You hear in the midnight gloom ; 
Behold. His tapers kindle 

Like stars in the quiet room. 



92 



Face to Face With Trouble 

O! face to face with trouble, 

Friend, I have often stood; 
To learn that pain hath sweetness. 

To know that God is good. 
Arise and meet the daylight. 

Be strong and do your best 
With an honest heart, and a child-like faith 

That God will do the rest. 



93 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

Child of the boundless prairie, son of the virgin 
soil, 

Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them 
that toil; 

God and Nature together shaped him to lead in 
the van. 

In the stress of the wildest weather, when the na- 
tion needed a man. 

Eyes of a smoldering fire, heart of a lion at 

bay. 
Patience to plan for to-morrow, valor to serve 

for to-day ; 
Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a 

flash with a jest, 
Hiding with gibe and great laughter the ache 

that was dull in his breast ! 

Met were the men and the hour, — man who was 
strong for the shock — 
94 



Abraham Lincoln 

Fierce were the lightnings unleashed: in the 

midst, he stood fast as a rock. 
Comrade he was and commander, he who was 

bom for the time, 
Iron in council and action, simple, aloof and 

sublime. 

Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries 
pass like a breath. 

Only some lives are immortal, challenging dark- 
ness and death. 

Hewn from the stuff of the martyrs, write in the 
star-dust his name, 

Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the 
records of Fame. 



95 



*«LET NOT YOUR HEART BE 
TROUBLED" 

'Twas the Master Himself Who said it 

To the sorrowful little band, 
Facing an hour of darkness 

That they could not understand. 
The light of their lives was fading, 

Their eyes with tears were dim, 
The rugged men were shaken 

At the thought of losing Him. 

" Let not your heart be troubled." 

Never was voice so sweet, 
Never was look more kingly. 

Nor assurance more complete. 
*' Let not your heart be troubled. 

Ye believe in God Most High, 
And one with God the Father, 

Equal with Him am I." 



96 



"'Let not Your Heart he Troubled"" 

" Let not your heart be troubled. 

In the day of an utter loss." 
It was Christ himself Who said it, 

Before Him the scourge and the Cross, 
It was Christ Himself Who said it 

To the loved He called His own, 
Before Him the resurrection 

And the seat on the Father's throne. 

" Let not your heart be troubled." 

Shall we take that comfort now.?^ 
Why should we walk in darkness.? 

Why furrow with pain the brow.? 
Why should the little trials 

Loom large on the common road.? 
Why should we tremble and falter 

At the weight of the daily load.? 

" Let not your heart be troubled 

'Twixt the darkness and the dawn, 
From the bitter cup of anguish 

Are draughts of sweetness drawn. 
Let not your heart be troubled 

Though ye stand by an open grave, 
In the hour of deep bereavement 

Be confident and brave." 
97 



^'Let not Your Heart be Troubled" 

" Let not your heart be troubled " 

At the thought of the vast unknown. 
Through the door at the end of the journey 

Ye shall not step alone. 
For He Who died to save you 

Shall come again at the last, 
And He will stay beside you 

Till death itself is past. 

" Let not your heart be troubled," 

The earth Hfe is so brief, 
And evermore from heaven 

The angels bring relief. 
Look in the face of the Master, 

List to His gentle voice ; 
Whatever He choose to send you 

Look up, believe and rejoice. 



98 



THE SECRET OF PEACE 

Amid the clamor and the din, 

The tumult and the jarring chords, 

The sweetest peace shall enter in 

To whom can saj, " I am the Lord's." 

Deep underneath the storm-swept sea 

An everlasting calm abides ; 
'Tis theirs who list His " Come to Me," 

Across the waste of throbbing tides. 

What boots it that with meager fare 
And scanty store, the way we take; 

If we with Him a crust can share, 
He shall our loaf divinely break. 

Some little thing for Him to do. 
Some little word for Him to say, 

Some wandering soul to Him to woo, 
Some meeting with Him in the way, 



99 



The Secret of Peace 

And earth grows beautiful with heaven, 
And weakness clothes itself with strength. 

And love is freed from sordid leaven, 
And loss and pain are gain at leng-th. 

To whom can say with fervent heart. 
And largess of the spirit's wealth, 

" I, with the Master, have my part," 

Come peace and hope and joy and health. 

Amid the clamor and the din. 

To whom can say, " I am the Lord's," 
The fullest peace shall enter in. 

And harmonize the jarring chords. 



100 



WHY DO YOU WORRY? 

Why do you worry, and pucker your brow, 
And walk with a down-cast, lowering look? 

You have only to struggle in Here and Now, 
You have turned no leaf in the Future's book. 

You are wearing yourself into shreds and bits. 
Over the ill that the morrow may bring. 

You are filling your day with absurd misfits. 
When you ought to be royal in robe and ring. 

The wee little bird in the fragile nest 

Is safe, though the tempest may rage abroad, 

The dear All-Father, Who loves you best. 
And cares for you ever, is Sovereign God. 

Why worry and fret over gain or loss, 

Why trouble yourself over earthly wealth. 
That may break like a bubble, the players toss? 
Why pine lest a robber should come by 
stealth.^ 

101 



Why Do You Worry? 

Why worry o'er illness, when God's kind hand 

Is ready to drive all pain away? 
Why shadow the Hght of this happy land, 

By treading in Misery's dreary way? 

There's nothing so foolish, believe me, friends, 
As the folly that eats like the moth and rust ; 

That refuses to take what the good Lord sends. 
And dims our gold with the trail of the dust. 

When we reach that door that shall let us in 
To the peace of Home, and the endless rest. 

We shall leave behind us strife and sin, 
And worry that darkens our lives at best. 

Why worry? O child of immortal birth, 
Forget the promptings that bind in thrall 

A soul that was sent to serve on earth, 

But must finally reign with the Lord of all. 



loa 



THANKSGIVING 

We have so much to thank Thee for, 
Lord of the vintage and the sheaf, 
Of garden flower and forest leaf. 

Our praises climb to more and more. 

For never were our bams so pressed 
With golden weight of fragrant grain, 
And fruits that came in perfumed train, 

Till Nature bade the fair land rest. 

Our ships that furrow every sea 

Fare onward with the great world's bread ; 

The peoples from our granaries fed 
Send up their meed of thanks to thee. 

Lord of the wave, and of the shore. 
Lord of the winds that wander wide, 
Lord of the planets and the tide, 

We praise and bless Thee more and more. 



lOS 



Thanksgiving 

And most of all for household mirth, 
For mother's smile and lisp of child, 
For love by no false lure beguiled. 

We praise Thee, Lord of home and hearth. 



104< 



SILVER OR COPPER? 

It was only a silver sixpence, 

Battered and worn and old, 
But worth to the child that held it 

As much as a piece of gold. 

A poor little crossing-sweeper. 
In the wind and rain all day — 

For one who gave her a penny 

There were twenty who said her nay. 

But she carried the bit of silver — 

A light in her steady face, 
And her step on the crowded pavement 

Full of a childish grace — 

Straight to the tender pastor; 

And " Send it," she said, " for me, 
Dear sir, to the heathen children 

On the other side of the sea. 

105 



Silver or Copper? 

" Let it help in telling the story 
Of the love of the Lord most high, 

Who came from the world of glory 
For a sinful world to die." 



" Send only half of it, Maggie," 

The good old minister said, 
" And keep the rest for yourself, dear ; 

You need it for daily bread." 

" Ah, sir," was the ready answer, 

In the blessed Bible words, 
" I would rather lend it to Jesus : 

For the silver and gold are the Lord's, 

" And the copper will do for Maggie," 

I think if we all felt so. 
The wonderful message of pardon 

Would soon through the dark earth go. 

Soon should the distant mountains 
And the far-off isles of the sea 

Hear of the great salvation 

And the truth that makes men free. 



106 



Silver or Copper? 

Alas ! do we not too often 

Keep our silver and gold in store, 

And grudgingly part with our copper, 
Counting the pennies o'er, 

And claiming in vain the blessing, 
That the Master gave to one 

Who dropped her mites as the treasure 
A whole day's toil had won? 



107 



ENNUI 

So very tired ! The days pass by 
One like its fellow, nothing bright 

Rifts the dull torpor of the sky, 

The hours creep on from mom till night. 

So very tired ! No star of hope 

With beckoning ray points to the goal. 

There is no goal ! no gates that ope 
The prison of this weary soul. 



108 



WHOSE COMPASSIONS FAIL NOT 

You may weary your friend and neighbor, 
You may seek for his aid in vain, 

You may waste your strength and your labor. 
And your griefs, they may come in a train; 

No voice shall respond to your weeping; 

All ears shall be deaf to your cry, 
And sorrowful, waking or sleeping, 

The days of your years shall drift by. 

But the heart of the Father will hold you 

In love that can never let go. 
The grace of the Father will fold you 

The closer, the deeper the woe. 

You cannot wear out His compassion, 
You cannot waft one stricken prayer 

In your faltering timorous fashion. 

To His throne from your deeps of despair, 



109 



Whose Compassions Fail Not 

JBut swift shall He send you a guerdon, 
And more than you ask shall He give, 

And his hand shall unloose your great burden 
And free in His light shall you live. 



110 



THE SOUL'S SAFEGUARD 

When bitter winds of trouble blow, 
And thou art tossing to and fro, 
When waves are rolling mountains high, 
And clouds obscure the steadfast sky. 
Fear not, my soul ; the Lord is there. 
Betake thyself, my soul, to prayer. 

When in the dull routine of life 

Thou yearnest half for pain and strife, 

So weary of the commonplace. 

Of days that wear the self -same face. 

Think softly, soul; thy Lord is there. 

And then betake thyself to prayer. 

When brims thy cup with sparkling joy. 
When happy tasks the hour employ, 
When men with praise and sweet acclaim 
Upon the highway speak thy name, 
Then, soul, I bid thee have a care; 
Seek oft thy Lord in fervent prayer. 

Ill 



The SouVs Safegimrd 

If standing where two pathways meet, 
Each beckoning thy pilgrim feet, 
Thou art in doubt which road to take, 
Look up, and say : " For thy dear sake - 
O Master! show Thy footprints fair — 
I'd follow Thee." Christ answers prayer. 

The, tempter oft, with wily toil, 
Seeks thee, my soul, as precious spoil; 
His weapons never lose their edge. 
But thou art heaven's peculiar pledge, 
Though Satan rage, thy Lord is there — 
Dear soul, betake thyself to prayer. 



11^ 



ONE OF THESE DAYS 

One of these days it will all be over, 

Sorrow and laughter, loss and gain. 
Meetings and partings of friend and lover, 

Joy that was often tinged with pain. 
One of these days will our hands be folded. 

One of these days will the work be done, 
Finished the pattern our lives have molded, 

Ended our labor beneath the sun. 

One of these days will the heartache leave us, 

One of these days will the burden drop ; 
Never again shall a hope deceive us. 

Never again shall our progress stop. 
Freed from the blight of the vain endeavor, 

Winged with the health of immortal life. 
One of these days we shall quit forever 

All that is vexing in earthly strife. 

One of these days we shall know the reason. 
Haply, of much that perplexes now; 

113 



One of These Days 

One of these days, in the Lord's good season, 
Light of His peace shall adorn the brow. 

Blessed, though out of tribulation. 

Lifted to dwell in His sun-bright smile, 

Happy to share the great salvation, 
Can we not patiently tarry awhile? 



lU 



A HAPPY NEW YEAR 
(darby to joan) 

When life was new and skies were blue. 

And all the world was blithe and true, 

It geemed a little thing to say, 

" I wish you, Love, a happy day ; " 

It were an easy thing, my dear. 

To wish you gladness and good cheer; 

The words fell tripping from the tongue. 

White flakes were like rose-petals flung; 

With all to hope and naught to fear. 

Came laughing in each gay New Year. 

Together, wife, we've challenged Hfe, 
We've braced to meet its utmost strife. 
Our hearts have not grown faint with time, 
Our feet are not too old to climb 
With sturdy step and fearless pace. 
Though slower in the onward race. 
Still do we gather roses red. 
Still march with brave uplifted head, 

115 



A Happy New Year 

And still at eventide we lift 

Our songs of praise through storm and drift; 

God grant us courage and good cheer ! 

And so we'll hail a glad New Year. 

This land of ours where Fortune showers 

Her fairy gifts like summer flowers, 

Has given us no golden wealth, 

But only store of joy and health. 

Hard work we've known and scanty wage 

Upon our rugged pilgrimage. 

But we have earned before we've spent, 

Have dwelt in honor and content. 

No man we owe, no frown we fear: 

Well may we claim a happy year. 

O Love of mine, we shall not pine J 
There is no thought of thine or mine. 
As hand in hand we keep the road 
With cheer that lightens every load. 
Old years like shadows pass away. 
Just hour by hour and day by day. 
New Years appear in roseate grace. 
Our little home's a sunny place. 
God bless you comrade, leal and dear, 
God give us both a glad New Year. 

116 



THE BABY'S HAND 

Little roseleaf , dimpled hand, 
Fingers tightly holding mine; 

Not a grasp in all the land 
Half so strong as thine. 



117 



SHOW ME THYSELF 

When the waves of trouble roll 
O'er the weary, burdened soul. 
Saviour, I shall strengthened be, 
If Thou show Thyself to me I 

When the sun of joy is bright, 
And I revel in its light. 
Lest earth's bliss too dazzling be, 
Manifest Thyself to me! 

When I wander from the way, 
In the paths of danger stray. 
Bending down in mercy free, 
Saviour, show Thyself to me! 

Spirit, Comforter divine! 
Be my heart Thy blessed shrine! 
From the tempter's snares set free. 
Come and show Thyself to me ! 

118 



Show Me Thyself 

While earth's suns and shadows meet, 
Mingling round my pilgrim feet, 
Till in heaven I rest with Thee, 
Saviour, show Thyself to me! 



119 



JESUS HIMSELF DREW NEAR 

We had wrought till the brain was weary ; 

We had toiled till the hands were numb; 
The look of the day was dreary, 

And the song on our lips grew dumb. 
When lo ! in a sudden gleaming 

Came the glow of a wonderful cheer ;, 
We were neither asleep nor dreaming, 

When the Master Himself drew near. 

Our hands that the tasks had hardened 

He held in a nail-pierced hand; 
Our hearts that were heavy and burdened 

He was swift to understand. 
All in an instant, heaven 

Had brought its brightness here; 
We had sinned, but were sin-forgiven: 

The Master Himself drew near. 

We sat in the halls of feasting; 
We were glad as the children are; 

120 



Jesus Himself Drew Near 

Over our path no shadow; 

We had fought with never a scar. 
In the midst of our deep rejoicing 

Did there come a shiver of fear? 
Nay, foohsh heart and faithless, 

For the Master Himself drew near. 

And He blessed the loaf, and brake it; 

And the cup Himself He poured; 
And He told us that joy and gladness 

Were ours in the light of the Lord; 
So we know that bliss or sorrow, 

The ache, or the smile, or the tear, 
Is each in its turn a blessing 

When the Master Himself draws near. 

So hallowed a thing is living. 

So beautiful daily toil. 
When the Christ we follow is giving 

Better than earthly spoil; 
So close are we held in His keeping. 

We never may doubt or fear; 
To His own, in waking or sleeping. 

The Master Himself draws near. 



lai 



EACH BY NAME 

Never a little foolish lamb astray in the twi- 
light dim 

But the tender Shepherd knoweth its name, and 
calleth it home to Him. 

In the flock and the fold the sheep are His, and 
He keepeth them close in care; 

And each for itself in the Shepherd's heart hath 
its own pecuhar share. 

Never a moor so wrapped in mist, nor a hill so 

gray and dun, 
But the Shepherd counteth His lambkins there, 

and watcheth them one by one. 
Never a day so bleak and chill, nor a night so 

dark and drear. 
But the tireless love of the Shepherd waits for 

the sheep that are passing dear. 

Never a weary, wayworn sheep in the great 
world flock to-day 

12^ 



Each by Name 

But may hear the call of the Shepherd's voice, 
may follow Him and obey. 

The Shepherd hath ransomed the great world- 
flock, he hath bought it for His own; 

And He loveth and guardeth it one by one, as 
were each in the world alone. 



1S3 



WHEN JESUS CAME TO BETHLEHEM 

When Jesus came to Bethlehem, 

All in the rose of dawn, 
The music quivered like a flame 

Erom heaven's own glory drawn, 
The sky and earth were blended in 

A symphony of love 
What time there came to Mary's arms 

The Child from heaven above. 

A lowly place the stable was. 

Yet never palace halls 
Enshrined such brightness as was framed 

Within its glimmering walls, 
When Mary held her little one, 

And looked upon His face, 
And knew that God had given her 

The Child, to save the race. 

The little Christ-child was so sweet. 
Had you been there, or I, 
124i 



When Jesus Came to Bethlehem 

We would have kissed those tiny feet, 
Have hushed that baby's cry ; 

We might have knelt, and offered gifts, 
Our gold, our spice, our myrrh ; 

We might have wreathed the manger with 
Our cedar, pine and fir. 

One day those little feet should tread 

The toilsome ways of men. 
One day those little hands be pierced — 

Did Mary dream it then? 
Ah, no, she only knew that heaven 

Had filled her soul with joy, 
She bent in mother blessedness 

Above her firstborn Boy. 

Christ, give to us this Christmas day, 

Such love as here He brought 
To simple folk and kingly folk — 

Such grace as here He wrought 
In hearts of those who followed Him. 

Christ bless us all this day, 
And give us peace, and give us heaven 

To crown our pilgrim way. 



125 



LOVE'S GUEST 

When summer waned, and nights grew long, 
And winds blew cold across the sea, 

O homeless Saviour of mankind, 
There were who ministered to Thee. 

They gave Thee of their humble fare ; 

Thy seat was close beside their fire, 
And Thou didst heal them of their hurt, 

Didst satisfy their heart's desire. 

Still art Thou homeless where the throngs 
Go hurrying past, nor think of Thee; 

As homeless yet as when the gales 
Stormed o'er the waves of Galilee. 

But, as of old, some door swings wide; 

Thou enterest, love's divinest guest; 
And, when Thou sharest loaf and cup, 

The lowliest meal is bright and blest. 



126 



Love's Guest 

There are who minister to Thee ; 

Lord, give us grace to join their band; 
To fare from dawn to evensong 

Thy comrades, in ImmanuePs land. 



127 



OUR COUNTRY 

By the sweep of rejoicing rivers 

That rush to the mighty sea, 
By the waves on our coasts that thunder, 

By the winds that are wild and free, 
By the stars in heaven above us, 

By the forests of pine and palm. 
By the strength of the hearts that love us, 

By the valor serene and calm, 
Of our young men strong for toiling, 

Of our old men, wise and brave. 
By the Glory of days departed, 

By many a hero's grave ; 
Oh blessed, beautiful country, 

We pledge thee our deathless faith. 
The thought of an ill that can wound thee. 

We flout as a bloodless wraith. 

Oh beautiful, blessed country, 
God-given for all the world, 
128 



Our Country 

For the poor and the alien ever 

Be the flag of thy stars unfurled. 
From the ends of the earth they seek thee, 

Down-trodden and long oppressed; 
From the mystic East they are hasting 

To the light of the glowing West. 
There is room for the child and the mother. 

Room for the peasant-bom, 
Room where we till our vineyards. 

Room where we plant our com. 
Let the weary ones find shelter 

And the lowliest ones a home, 
Here where thine arms enfolds them 

With greetings for all who come. 



Oh beautiful, blessed country, 

God meant for the wide, wide world; 
Let the gifts of thy generous bounty 

Fail not till thy flag is furled. 
By the wealth of the ore beneath thee, 

By thine acres of golden wheat. 
By the flowers in field and garden. 

By the laughter of children, sweet. 
By the treasure that God hath sent thee, 

By the freedom of church and press, 
tL29 



Our Country 

Thou art pledged to rescue the starving 

And succor the world's distress. 
Thou must break to the famine stricken 

The bread that belongs to thee, 
Thou must tell the sad and lonely 

The love that is theirs to be. 
By the Cross of Christ and His passion, 

In the might that is born of prayer, 
Oh beautiful, blessed country 

Thou must lighten the earth's despair. 



130 



THE WHITE ROSE-BUSH 

You see when the white rose blooms again, 

A sweet old-fashioned flower of June, 
That has smiles of love for the wind and rain, 

And is somehow with bees and birds atune. 
It is not the rose for the florist's shop. 

It is meek and lowly and has no pride ; 
But I treasure its petals as they drop; 

It was grandmother's rose, when she came a 
bride : 
Leaning so tenderly on his arm, 

When grandfather brought her home to the 
farm. 

She was small and lissome, a brown-haired girl. 
With eyes that were bits of the sky so blue. 

She had given herself to the wooer bold 
Who had pledged his troth to be ever true. 

The rose-bush tapped in a friendly way 

On the pane, when their first home-meal was 
spread, 

131 



The White Rose-Bush 

And it wafted its perfume many a day 

To the wife as she kneaded her sweet home 
bread. 
They told their love, their secrets dear, 

Oh, years and years, where the rose could 
hear. 

Patter, patter, came tiny feet 

Running over the kitchen floor; 
Prattle and lisp, came voices sweet 

Echoing round the kitchen door. 
And the dimpled fingers clutched at the bloom 

When summer by summer the white rose 
smiled 
And added its gladness to roof and room 

Gay with the grace of many a child. 
Through sunshine and snowfall the children 
grew. 

And they knew the rose but never the rue. 

The childl'en are scattered wide and far; 

There are strangers now in the dear old 
place ; 
Men born under a distant star. 

Women who come of an alien race. 

132 



The White Rose-Bush 

The old folks sleep on the hill-slope where 

The wild winds murmur and wail at night; 

Side by side, with never a care, 

They fell asleep in the waning light. 

Deep and peaceful is their repose ; 

I would 'twere under the old white rose. 



133 



WHY? 

Why look at the shadow 

Unless to remind 
Your heart, that the sunbeam 

Is somewhere behind, 
Unless to reflect that both shadow and shine 
Are sent by the love of the Father Divine? 



134. 



OUR SOLDIER BOYS 

Forgotten in their quiet beds, the silent soldiers 
sleep. 
Above them all the flitting years, the stars 
like sentries stand: 
These men, who in their joyous youth, left off 
to sow and reap, 
And marched, and fought, and died, to save 
their honored native land. 

They hear no tocsin as they lie, with faces sky- 
ward turned; 
The flag they loved above them flies ; its folds 
they cannot see. 

And most who mourned them once, are gone. 
No grieving heart hath yearned 

Of late, to have them back again in earth's 
great family. 

Yet, precious in the Father's sight, the sacrifice 
they made; 
And well remembered at the throne, the names 
that here they bore. 
135 



Our Soldier Boys 

For not in vain these heroes knelt and felt 
faith's accolade. 
And went to fame's Valhalla to be knightly 
evermore. 

Our roses wet with shining dew, our lilies stain- 
less white. 
Our flowers plucked by gentle hands, upon 
their graves we'll lay. 
And somehow, we are sure, that they are hal- 
lowed in God's sight. 
These who were true, though some wore blue, 
and some wore sadder gray. 



130 



BETWEEN THE SHEARS 

Both sides are standing firm, 

Jaws set, eyes stem, hands clenched. 

Neither will yield an inch. 

Not a face has wavered or blenched. 

Masters and men alike 

Have the battle-joy in their blood; 
Week after week of the strike. 

And neither has aught to the good. 

But step this way, if you please : — 
Look at the bowed gray head! 

See the women on their knees, 

Hear the children crying for bread! 

Rust on the workman's tools ; 

Rust in the rich man's heart; 
Dust in the locked-up mills ; 

And the wage and the work apart. 

137 



Between the Shears 

And the childl'en crying for bread. 

The children are wanting shoes; 
What does it matter who wins, 

Whether they gain or lose? 

The cloth between the shears, 
Are the old, and the little ones. 

And the wives, who bear the brunt, 
'Twixt rising and setting suns. 



138 



WHEN SUMMER ENDS 

When Summer sifts her latest sands, 

And the Autumn's at the door, 
When far and wide the golden lands, 

Are bare as broom-swept floor; 
When all the fruit is gathered in, 

And all the vines are sere. 
Then thou and I shall face, my love. 

The Winter of the year. 

Then thou and I shall bar the door. 

And light the ruddy flame. 
And tell the summer's gladness o'er, 

And tell how love first came; 
Nor will we grieve for summer gone. 

Beside that glowing fire, 
When winter dusk and winter dawn 

Chill not our heart's desire. 



139 



MARY 

O Mother Mary, did you see 

The shadow-cross that followed Him, 

When playing near the olive tree, 
What time the day grew dim? 

Mother Mary, did you hear 

The mocking cries that hooted Him, 
When He came from the synagogue, 
What time the day grew dim? 

" Nay," sweetly comes the answer now, 
From heights of heaven, " I never feared; 

1 only knew my Child of Heaven 
Was more then He to men appeared. 

*' I only watched, and loved Him well ; 

I knew but vaguely, in my heart ; 
I often pondered many things 

What time I sat apart. 



140 



Mary 

" And when His baby head was pressed 
Against my throbbing heart, I prayed 

God keep the nursling on my breast: 
My heart was not afraid." 



141 



AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN 

Four o'clock and prince's feather, 

Lady-slippers, wilding thyme, 
Pinks and purple flox together, 

Ribbon grass to bind my rhyme, 
And the lilies in the middle. 

And the roses at the rim, 
Color, scent, and tangled beauty. 

Filled that garden to the brim. 



X4£ 



IN THE SHADOW — A REQUIEM 

In the shadow as in the shine, 

I have loved you, dearest, and called you mine. 

I have known your truth in the cloudy day, 
I have walked with you on the world's high- 
way. 

Step by step in our ups and downs, 

In the lonesome dale, in the thronging towns, 

Comrades together have been we two 
When skies were gray, when skies were blue. 

Now, when the veil has dropped between 
The world we see and the world unseen, 

Now, when I sit here, all bereft. 
When you are taken, and I am left, 

I am glad for the years in shadow and shine 
When love made water the richest wine, 

143 



In the Shadow — A Requiem 

When the crust was a feast, and the loaf was 

shared, 
And nothing we feared and all things dared. 

You are surely waiting, wherever you are, 
Till the door you passed through shall swing 
ajar. 

And let me in to touch your hand 
And make you at home in the strange new 
land ; 

For as certain am I, as I live by breath. 

That love is stronger and greater than death, 

And they who have loved, shall win at last 
To the glory where death is forever past. 



M^ 



WHEN SOUTH WINDS BLOW 

There is not a windy corner left 

Where the bitter gales were sharp, 
That is not this morning, music-cleft 

By the sound of the zephyr's harp. 
The south winds blow, and the buds unclose, 

The daffodils laugh in light; 
We are hurrying on to the day of the rose. 

And the winter has taken flight. 

There is not a copse, a wood, a grove, 

Where the trees stand green and fair, 
But the birds are singing of Hf e and love. 

And mating and nesting there. 
The south winds blow and the household eaves 

Are sweet with the fledglings' cry, 
And the mother-bird through the bowering 
leaves. 

Looks up to the soft blue sky. 



145 



When the South Wind Blows 

There is not a heart so sad and dull 

That it is not glad to-day, 
When Nature is holding a cup so full 

Its honey brims over the way — 
The weary way, that we often tread; 

And the path is not hard to go. 
When the sun of the spring shines overhead 

And we hear the south wind blow. 



146 



BROTHERHOOD 

(At a great fire in Paterson, New Jersey, eight churches 
were destroyed. On the following Lord's Day, the First 
Presbyterian Church held services in a Jewish Temple.) 

Not as once in the court of the Gentiles 

By the Hebrew, held sternly aloof, 
But, by brotherly kindness invited. 

The Christians meet under the roof 
Of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, 

And the aisles of the synagogue ring 
To the psalm of the multitude singing 

That the crucified, Jesus, is King! 

Oh, love that no scorning can tire. 

Oh, Fire that purgeth our dross ; 
Bring thou to this earth its desire. 

Bring gain to repay every loss. 
We thank Thee that nearer and dearer 

Thou drawest in brotherhood's bands, 
Men, severed for long by their hatred ; 

Now clasping in friendship, their hands. 
147 



A YELLOW LEAF 

All summer's gold, 

All autumn's light 
In that bright leaf 

That lives till night, 
Then falls asleep, 

And fades away! 
Ah, leaf, so brief 

Thy splendid stay. 
Good-by until 

Another day. 



148 



LOOMS 

Our looms are full of noisy zeal, 
God's looms go softly whirring 

From start to stop, from dawn to eve, 
Without the sound of stirring. 

From leaf to sheaf the looms of God 
Go singing of His glory; 

And everywhere, in sky and sod. 
We read His wondrous story. 



149 



A YOUNG GIRL 

Through the mist of the years that are finished 

and over, 
Through the waft of the scent of the blush-red 

clover, 
Through the ripple of waves that I've heard on 

the beach. 
Through the hsp of breezes too soft for speech, 
I see and I hear her, a vision fair, 
That beautiful girl at the head of the stair. 

When the roses bloom as they bloomed divinely, 
When the shorn wheat lies in the swathe su- 
pinely, 
When the oriole high in his nest is swinging. 
When the hermit thrush in the copse is singing, 
I see and I hear her, though none is there — 
The girl who sits at the head of the stair. 

She was tidy and neat with a dainty trimness ; 
She was slender and tall with a lissome slimness ; 

150 



A Young Girl 

She was golden-haired and her eyes were glint- 
ing 
With a blue of the heart of the heavens hinting, 
And none among maids could at all compare 
With the radiant girl at the head of the stair. 

Ah, me ! for the days that are gone forever ; 
Ah, me! for the youth that retumeth never; 
There are girls and girls whom I often meet. 
At home, by the way, in the house, on the street, 
But never a girl who is half so fair 
As the one who sat at the head of the stair. 

And the worst of it is, if she still be living 

In this land where Time is both taking and 

giving, 
She has lost some bit of her sweet rose-shading, 
For Time is a thief who is always raiding. 
And she's far too stout to be sitting there, 
As the girl she was, at the head of the stair. 



151 



THE GREAT MEN PASS 

The great men pass. We stand appalled, and 

say, 
" How shall we live, when these have left our 

day? 
How shall we fight when splendid leaders fall. 
How work, when silent is their bugle call? " 

^ 

Ah, friends, the great men pass, but greatness 

lives ! 
Strength for the work, the Master workman 

gives. 
From heaven's high wall of j asper true and clear, 
Rings out the clarion call ; we need not fear. 

God's battles do not cease. Still in the van 
The Captain's banner flies ; the Son of Man, 
True Son of God, and deathless, leads the way. 
To-morrow shall make up for yesterday. 



153 



The Great Men Pass 

The great men pass, but pass into the light, 
Their brave feet climbing up some heavenly 

height. 
We need not fear, or great, or small, if we 
Are workers for the vast eternity. 



\ISS 



PAY DAY 

Take your pleasure, idle one, 
But when falls the set of sun 
And the day's long stunt is done, 

Pay-day comes ! 
If you have the work forgot ; 
Shirked the duty, left the spot 
Of your labor unimproved, 
Think not, even the most beloved 
Of your friends, or kith, or kin, 
Shall find room to shelter in 

Their sweet homes 
One who all engrossed with play 
Overlooked the stem pay-day. 



154' 



NOT ALONE 

When our dear ones leave us 

One by one, 
Never on the strange path 

Do they go alone. 

Swift as light from heaven, 

Swift as love, 
Comes the Lord to meet them, 

Hasting from above. 

Little child, or pilgrim. 

Worn and old, 
Do not have to wander 

Looking for the fold. 

For the Christ who brought us 

Heaven's grace. 
Takes their hand and guides them 

To His dwelling-place. 

155 



THE SEAT OF THE SCORNFUL 

It wasn't so much the thing you said, 

'Twas the way you looked when you said it; 
The scornful lip, and the toss of your head, 

And your smile ; for a sneer she read it. 
You hurt a heart that had need of cheer ; 

You made a bright day dark, 
And — the wing of a dove was drifting near — 

You bolted the door of the ark. 

There's a wonderful help in a gentle word, 

If the truth of love go with it ; 
It's like the pool by the angel stirred, 

If the strength of faith flow with it. 
A tone, a glance, a touch of the hand. 

The thought of the common bond. 
They aid one on through the desert land 

To the rest of the home beyond. 



156 



WAR AND PEACE 

War, and nations clutching madly 

In a bout of deadly strife, 
Each with furious hate and anger 

Menacing the other's life ; 
War, and battles in the open ; 

War, and grief on land and sea ; 
Who shall count the sum of bloodshed. 

Who shall gauge its misery? 

Peace, and lo ! the ploughshare driven 

Deep into the teeming soil; 
Peace, and lo I the ships that furrow 

Every wave, with fruits of toil; 
Peace, and songs above the cradle ; 

Peace, and heaven let down to earth ; 
Who shall estimate its blessings. 

Who shall gauge its ceaseless worth? 



15T 



A FINISHED PAGE 

When the last word is written, 
And the final word is said ; 

When the last pang is over, 
And you sit beside the dead, 

With your heart dumb and smitten. 
As you watch by her bed; 

You'd give the whole world, then, 
For just one chance more ; 

To say, " Dear, I love you " ; 
To tell her o'er and o'er 

That her look was a blessing 
When she stood by the door. 

That you never meant to hurt her; 

That deep down in your soul. 
There was truth to her, turning 

As the needle to the pole ; 
That without her, life was empty; 

And with her, it was whole. 
158 



A Finished Page 

But you let the days drift onward. 
Till there came the last day ; 

And she was called to heaven, 
And you had here to stay; 

And you're wrapped in numb silence ; 
For there's naught left to say, 

Since the final word was written. 

And the final word is said. 
And you're sitting, dumb and smitten. 

Close by your darling's bed. 
And your darling lies there sleeping — 

Fast asleep: for she is dead. 



159 



WHEN HEAVEN RAINS FLOWERS 

In these blithe days of summer and sun, 

And air is crystal and skies are bright, 
And in long white hours our work is done, 

And slowly, dreamily falls the night — 
In these blithe days, heaven rains down flowers. 

Daisies and roses, and all things fair ; 
And there's never a hidden corner or nook 

In the great green country, but flowers are 
there. 



160 



SHIP AHOY! 

Ship ahoy! with rainbow tints and sails out- 
spread, 
Unf earing, eager winds ahead. 
With freight of joys and gifts of tears, 
O latest ship of all the years, 
How shall we greet thee? What hast thou 
So gallant and so shining now 
For us, who wave the friendly hand 
To waft thee to thy far-off strand? 

Ship ahoy ! The far eternities in thee 
Have made investments large and free; 
Thou holdest Nineveh and Rome, 
And our own country's lowliest home 
Safe in thy fold ; the waves that break 
Before, or slumber in thy wake. 
First caught their sheen when God, at flood 
Creative, saw, and called them good. 
O little ship of mien so fair. 
So christened by our yearning prayer, 

161 



Ship Ahoy! 

What bearest thou to hearts that long 
For work or wage, or place or song? 

Ship ahoy ! To troublous times and stormy 

seas, 
To wildest gale and softest breeze. 
To orchard scents and vesper sighs. 
To lilt of birds and April skies, 
To battlefields and banners torn. 
To many a sombre night and mom. 
Thou bearest them who sail with thee ; 
Shall they escape eternity. 
Who on thy deck set foot and glide 
With thee, upon the unknown tide? 

Ship ahoy! We sail, and drifting, to our ears 
Comes music bom in distant spheres. 
We sail, and lift a fervent psalm : 
In tempest safe, and safe in calm. 
For lo ! thy captain knows the way 
Through every path of night and day, 
Thy captain, who forever keeps 
His word, and never, heedless, sleeps. 
The ships pass by, oh ! many a ship ; 
In time's deep currents swift they dip. 

162 



Ship Ahoy! 

The ships pass by, the shore abides, 
Unwrecked by all the restless tides. 
One day we'll need the ships no more, 
Safe moored on the eternal shore. 
Ship ahoy! 



163 



COUNSEL 

Friend, when your heart Is heavy, 

And you know not where to turn, 
When the years He dark behind you 

And their blistering memories bum, 
Arise, and fling them from you — 

The thoughts that poison sleep; 
And pray the Lord's good angels 

Around you ward to keep. 

Nay, dwell not with the sorrow 

Of the fruitless might-have-been; 
Nor waste in vain repinings, 

The strength the day might win. 
Arise, and march straight forward, 

And face the years to be. 
And pray the Lord of angels 

To send you victory. 



164j 



WHITE LILACS 

Beside our Aunt Rebecca's door, ' 
With waft of scent and lift of plume. 

When Spring comes dancing back once more, 
The dear white Hlacs bloom. 

They brush the lowly latticed pane. 
So honey-sweet they are, and bold, 

In sparkling sun and sudden rain. 
They keep the grace of old. 

But much they marvel where away 

Hath passed the tall and stately dame, 

Who always knew the lilacs' day. 
Who kissed them when they came. 

She brought them welcome from the years. 
That wrought in her such bourgeoning 

Of beauty, that time's last arrears 
Were paid her in the spring. 



165 



White Lilacs 

Beneath the kerchief folded plain 
Across her gown of quiet gray, 

She kept the girl's heart, glad and fain, 
The joyous hope of May. 

And though men thought her old and worn. 
And angels saw the living truth. 

And knew her, child of love and mom. 
The lady fair in sooth. 

So bloom for her, beside her door, 
Dear lilacs that she loved to greet. 

Lift snowy plume, and waft before 
Her silent house, your sweet. 



160 



A RIME OF POETS DEAD 

Some one said the other day 

The poets all were dead, 
We need not hope to wreathe the bay 

For any living head. 

The Muses frighted cannot rest, 

Amid our modem stir ; 
And fancies rove in bootless quest 

Urged on by Money's spur. 

" No atmosphere," the pessimist, 
With mournful murmur cried, 

Yet, still the skies are amethyst 
At morn and eventide. 

And still the little ripples break 

In music on the beach; 
The robins at the dawn awake 

Sweet songs that need not speech. 

167 



A Rime of Poets Dead 

Along the yellow shingle, creams 
The wonder of the surf; 

The hooded violet nods and dreams 
Above the velvet turf. 



A thousand birds are on the wing ; 

The nests are woven fair; 
And million-fold the branches swing 

In blossom-tinted air. 

Of song and scent the world is full, 

As erst before the sage 
To Maiden Science went to school 

In this amazing age. 

And if the poets, dazed, are crushed 
Beneath the awesome weight 

Of great inventions that have rushed 
Adown the paths of fate, 

Dame Nature regnant and serene, 
And rich with wealth untold, 

Still holds, her royal hands between, 
A cup of carven gold. 

168 



A Rime of Poets Dead 

It overbrims with honeyed wine, 
It spills upon the ground, 

Its precious sweets are thine and mine 
The beauteous world around. 

Some morn the poets will arise 

And as in Homer's day, 
Shall call on wood and wave and skies 

To list the words they say. 

The things they see, with vision clear, 
That thing their lips shall sing ; 

Unto some glory of the year 

Their splendid chords shall ring. 

For Love and Life and Home abide, 
And hearts are aye the same; 

And every common highway side 
Is rimmed with kindling flame. 

Ah, no ! The poets never die t 
Bring garlands ; do not list 

To any low despairing cry 
Of modern pessimist. 



169 



A MEMORY 

She loved her life, and from it she has gone ; 
Vanished as softly as a mist at dawn. 

She loved her friends ; they miss her more and 

more: 
Death took her suddenly; and locked the door. 

She loved her work ; 'twas finished when she went 
To other work, and higher, well content. 

For her dear sake, all work shall henceforth be 
More sacred and more beautiful to me. 



170 



ONE COAT AND TWO SMALL BOYS 

Blue-ejed and freckled-faced, as like as brothers 

were the boys, 
So starved and thin, one saw at once that few had 

been their joys. 
They trotted down the street that day, as cold 

as cold could be, 
But Timmy had an overcoat, and Jack, no coat 

had he. 

And every little while they stopped, and off came 
Timmy's coat. 

And Jackie slipped it on, and hugged the gar- 
ment to his throat. 

Then, warmed a bit, he slipped it off, and Timmy 
wore it then. 

And thus, like soldiers, on they marched, the 
valiant little men. 

Oh, city full of millionaires 1 Oh, nation, pass- 
ing proud, 

171 



One Coat and Two Small Boys 

With wealth that clamors to the skies ! amid the 

hurrying crowd 
That thronged the path, that bitter day went 

poverty and pain, 
And did not lift a grieving eye, nor murmur nor 

complain. 

One overcoat between them; the brothers bore 

the brunt 
Of sleet and frost, and trod the street like heroes 

at the front. 
God grant them yet a better day with plenty in 

their hand. 
The little loving brothers, now, step-children of 

this land! 



172 



THE STING OF IT 

Now, this is the thing that hurts me 

As I look at her vacant chair; 
As I hear my heart-beat throbbing 

In the empty desolate air; 
I could better bear the sorrow, 

I could easier stifle the moan, 
If when she were here, so often 

I had not left her alone. 

I knew she was watching for me, 

I knew she was waiting there, 
And I took her love for granted — 

I tell you, it wasn't fair. 
Many a time I loitered 

When I might have hurried home, 
And to-day there is no one to greet me^ 

To care, if I go or come. 

No, she never complained of my coldness ; 
As proud as a queen was she, 
173 



The Sting of It 

Always the same sweet woman 
And all that a wife could be. 

But the little grieved droop at the comers 
Of the rosebud mouth I knew; 

And the smile that was wan and fading, 
And the pain in the eyes so true. 

They told their tell-tale story: 

I read it and went away. 
Though I meant not half the trouble ; 

What good does that do to-day, 
When the little hands are folded 

And the beautiful face is hid. 
And the joy of my life is buried 

Under a coffin-lid.? 

The doctor said nothing could save her ; 

I feel in the dead o' the night, 
That I might have saved my Mary 

If only I'd loved her right. 
A flower is chilled by the frost-blight. 

And love can be winter-killed ; 
And that is the ceaseless bitter 

In memory's cup distilled. 

174j 



The Sting of It 

And this is the sting of remembrance, 

As over her grave I bend — 
I treated her worse than a foe, when 

She was dearer than dearest friend. 
And too late I sit in my sorrow 

And try to keep back the groan. 
There's nothing so mean on the planet 

As the meanness that hurts one's own. 



175 



FATHER 

A little stooped, a trifle gray, 

The old man plods the weary road ; 

Continual work, but little play, 
No shirking of the heavy load. 

Just growing old, and bearing care 

That few observe, and fewer share. 

Years hence perhaps, his boys grown up 
To man's estate, will better know 

The bitterness that brimmed the cup 
Of " Father " in the long ago ; 

So little spoken love was his. 

So many joys he seemed to miss. 



176 



EMBER-GLOW 

The year is almost gone, Love, 

The year is ahnost gone, 
Another windy twihght. 

Another dark night on, 
A dawn, a noon, a midnight. 

And then the solemn bell 
That strikes the passing of the year 

We two have known so well. 

Beside the rose-red embers 

That fade to ashen gray, 
We two shall sit together 

And speed the year away. 
Another year is coming, 

O Love, may it be fair. 
And still, may we, hand clasping hand. 

Its changeful seasons share. 



irr 



LITTLE THINGS 

Such little things that parted us, 

Not worth the telling over; 
Such trifles that were as the breeze 

That bends the blush-red clover; 
But oh 1 a breeze may make a gale, 

A trifle wreck a life, 
And little, little, little things 

May waken deadly strife. 



3L78 



THY TASK 

A wrong that may be righted, 

A pain that may be healed, 
A grief that may be lessened, 

A ray of truth revealed ; 
A word in season spoken, 

An aid in season given. 
This be thy task to do, dear friend, 

With faith in God and heaven. 

Wherever want and weakness 

Amid the gloom abide, 
Wherever ill and malice 

In craven ambush hide, 
There find thy field to battle. 

Nor any hardship rue, 
For in the strength of heaven 

Thy task is there to do. 



179 



A CAUTION 

Is there something one can do for mother, 
When the shoulders bow a little with the load? 

Is she not more dear than any other? 

Can one somehow help her onward on the 
road? 

Mother never thinks that she is tired, 
Mother never of her toil complains ; 

She would say that nothing she desired ; 
Seldom does she speak of aches and pains. 

Yet 'tis afternoon, and growing dreary ; 

All her youth is wanting, and the gray 
Of a chilly twilight finds her weary ; 

She is old and near the end of day. 

Make her stop and take her share of pleasure, 
Let her have the j ourney and the rest ; 

Give her now and then a little leisure; 
And insist on giving her the best ! 

180 



A Caution 

Second-best will do for Sue and Mary, 
With their merry life, a rose in bloom 

Of the mother's joy and hope be chary, 
Lest she slip away, and all be gloom. 



181 



THANKFUL 

" I ought to be thankful," she said, 
" I have much to make me so, 

But if I were truly thankful, 
I wouldn't be cross, I know. 

" I wouldn't be horrid and hateful 
And fret at the prayers denied: 

I would put my foot on anger, 
And trample on folly and pride. 

" I'll try to be thankful, looking 
At the bright side, not at the dark, 

And perhaps in really trying, 
I'll nearer approach the mark." 



182 



APTERMATH 

Oh, reaped and bare the pasture lay 
And shorn the meadows, lately gay ; 
But better suns and gentler showers, 
And brooding of the loving hours, 
Have brought sweet gifts ; the valley hath, 
To-day, its fragrant aftermath. 

And sweet as emerald is the grass. 
Where soft the velvet shadows pass, 
And fluttering at its garment's hem, 
Are flowers a queen might, leaf and stem. 
Wear on her breast ; and brimming o'er, 
Is beauty's chalice, filled once more ! 



183 



ROBIN IN THE TREE-TOP 

Robin in the tree-top, 

Fluting cheerily, 
What's your merry message, 

Robin, dear, to me? 

Robin bids me waver 

Never, come what may; 

Robin bids me take the road 
As for holiday. 

Robin in the tree-top. 
Singing all day long, 

Thank you, bird of gladness, 
For your cheery song. 



184 



PRISCILLA 

She stepped from the frame of a picture 

Into a dream of mine, 
The beautiful maid, Priscilla, 

With her look of auld lang syne. 

Never was face more winsome, 

Never was voice more sweet, 
Never was maiden fairer 

From her head to her little feet. 

I wakened, and lo ! beside me 

Was a damsel just as fair. 
With eyes like the stars of heaven 

And gold in her waving hair. 

Long time ago was Priscilla 

Beloved by old and young ; 
Her beauty limned by painters. 

Her charms by the poets sung. 

185 



Priscilla 

But this child of to-day inherits 
The grace of the Puritan hne, 

And the face of the modem maiden 
Is the face in that dream of mine. 



186 



A CHEERY WORD 

Just a cheery word, dear, 
Just a pleasant glance — 

And the world grows brighter, 
And the pulses dance. 

Cost of loving-kindness, 
Worth its weight in gold, 

Is so small that never 
Shall that cost be told. 

Meeting on the pavement — 

In the busy throng, 
Let your gay " Good morning " 

Leave a lilt of song ! 

Passing on the comer. 
When the shadows fall, 

Drop a genial greeting ; 
Smile, if that is all I 

187 



A Cheery Word 

Fellow rather troubled, 
Crushed by hapless luck, 

Gathers up his courage. 
Faces life with pluck. 

All because your cordial 
Hail, upon his way, 

Told him that the morrow'd 
Bring another day ! 



188 



I WISH YOU JOY 

I wish you joy, beloved 1 

I do not know, my dear. 
What path is stretching out before 

Your feet in this new year. 

But this I'm fain to say ; 

The transient pang will pass 
As ripples on the summer brook, 

Or shadows on the grass. 

Pain smites and comes to end, 

'Tis joy alone abides: 
'Tis joy that like the morning light 

From heaven exulting glides. 

I wish you joy, beloved! 

Not gems, nor gold, nor lands I 
But only joy, the gift of gifts. 

Straight from our Father's hands. 

189 



THE DOOR-STEP 

Father in his shirt-sleeves with his pipe, 

Mother sitting, folded hands, all her dishes 
done. 

Evening stealing softly on, and in the sky, 
Afterglow resplendent; good-by sun. 

Down beside the bars, a maiden and a man, 
Ruth, and young Leander — neighbor's boy ; 

Father looks at mother, smiles and nods, 
"No doubt that's settled — wish 'em joy." 



190 



THE SAME SWEET TALE 

Beside the kitchen window 
Stands Norah, shy and fair, 

And Michael, something flustered. 
Is loathe to leave her there. 

" Come out with me my sweetheart, 
Come out and see the stars, 

Come drive with me, and hear the surf 
That breaks across the bars ! 

" For it's oh ! I love you Norah, 
Your true love I would be ; 

Come leave the close hot kitchen, 
Come out of doors with me. 



In the filmy curtain's shadow, 
In the stately drawing-room, 

Waits dainty Ethel, peerless 
As ever a rose in bloom. 
191 



The Same Sweet Tale 

And Archie suave and gallant, 
Bows low before her grace, 

And all his heart is written 
Upon his honest face. 

« For it's I that love you, Ethel, 
Your true love I would be ; 

My car is waiting at the door. 
Come forth and ride with me J " 



19^ 



ABSENT 

A year ago, her hand in mine, 

We strolled through forest pathways dim. 
We watched the golden eve decline, 

We listened to the thrushes' hymn. 

But all unseen an angel near 

Was waiting, soon to claim his own. 

I wander lone and weary here — 

She dwells in heaven's radiant zone. 

So, drifting fast, these summer days 

Bring only memories to me. 
And yet the hours are full of praise. 

That bird and brook and flower and tree, 

Are full of her, who loved them so. 

She is not here, but where she stays. 
The endless summer blooms, I know ; 

And she is in its heart of praise. 



193 



Absent 

Ah me I the drifting summer days ; 

To you they bring but love and cheer. 
For me are shadowed all their ways, 

The one I long for is not here 1 



194 



LIFE 

Life is too brief 

Between the budding and the falling leaf, 

Between the seed-time and the golden sheaf, 

For hate and spite. 
We have no time for malice and for greed : 
Therefore with love make beautiful the deed ; 

Fast speeds the night. 

Life is too swift 

Between the blossom and the white snow's drift. 

Between the silence and the lark's uplift, 

For bitter words. 
In kindness and in gentleness our speech 
Must carry messages of hope, and reach 

The sweetest chords. 

Life is too great 

Between the infant's and the man's estate, 
Between the clashing of earth's strife and fate. 
For petty things. 
195 



Life 

Lo 1 we shall yet who creep with cumbered feet, 
Walk glorious over heaven's golden street, 
Or soar on wings I 



196 



BE BRAVE 

Darling, whatever may happen, as you have a 

soul to save, 
Face the worst like a soldier, ever be true and 

brave. 
The craven is always worsted ; the craven is sure 

to fail, 
But the brave heart weathers the tempest and 

dares the uttermost gale. 



19T 



HOPE 

Through the winter drear and cold, 
Shone the spring with heart of gold. 

Tinkling music sweet and clear, 
They who had an ear could hear, 

Voices of the coming day, 

When the brooks should leap and play. 

When the leaf and blossom fair 
Whispering gladness everywhere, 

Birds should flit and blithesome wing. 
Herald all the joy of spring. 

Though the days be long to wait, 
Though the heart be desolate. 

Ever through the darkest hour 
Thrills the future's radiant flower. 

Ever gates of glory ope 
At the gentle touch of Hope. 
198 



LOVE 

When you sum up the year 

With its glory of leaves, 
Its seed-time and harvest, 

Its buds and its sheaves ; — 
When you get to December, 

You sing the same tune 
That 'twas sweet to remember 

And carol, in June. 

From the day of your youth 

To the day of white age. 
Through the book of your life 

To the very last page. 
When comes a great angel 

The " Finis " to write. 
The same true evangel 

Is aye your delight. 

There be those who will tell you 

Of jewels and gold. 
Of investments, a story 

Of wonder unfold. 
199 



Love 

One dividend never 
Will fail to impart 

The self -same wealth ever, 
To dower the heart. 

Let the spring zephyrs blow, 

Or the winter winds howl, 
Let fortune smile blandly 

Or sullen fate scowl. 
From June to December, 

What sky arch above, 
To life's very last ember, 

Life's crowning is LOVE. 



200 



JOURNEY'S END 

We run the race full merrily, 
Old Time and we together, 

And little care have Youth and Love 
For stress of wind and weather ; 

The dancing heart they carry weighs 
As light as floating feather. 

We run the race full sturdily, 
With Time, when we are older ; 

We dare him bravely though we bear 
A burden on the shoulder. 

And if he gain upon our pace 
We face him, but the bolder. 

We run the race full gallantly 
(The road in need of mending), 

When Time, derisive, sees us near 
The Inn of Journey's Ending; 

And swift along the down-hill slopes 
Our pilgrim steps are bending. 
201 



Journey's 'End 

We run the race triumphantly, 
For Time must break his tether ; 

There comes a day we pass beyond 
His realm of changeful weather; 

Eternity must win, and we 
And it, go home together. 



20S 



NOV 10 1911 



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